the silver teaspoons

two silver spoons, two completely different people tied together by children, marriage, divorce they shared a home two decades of life and then nothing just children; bound by blood, broken by each other they’re in the same room, fingers brushing as they pass each other banners to stick on the walls i was the first born the first broken but the last to arrive at the party i decorated the cake with him, putting our beliefs aside to decide where to place the candles aligned with my mother but stood with him while she’s in the other room i was in the middle of every fight sometimes the cause but i didn’t choose to be born so i decorate this cake two metres from us sit the room i try to forget we form a circle and talk about our addictions what we lost who we lost i lost my father and i lost myself one long before the other i just can’t figure out who he has no idea these thoughts are in my head or that locked room has any more meaning to me than just a locked room so while we agree where to place these candles i hear the conversations in my head i was their marriage counsellor; too young, too under qualified now i stand with them one each side of me; and they smile at each other or maybe through each other and past each others silhouette to the memories of what they once were they were married divorced one drinks tea another drinks coffee i measure the sugar i pour the milk i have the urge to clean up their cups maybe because i couldn’t clean up their marriage i dry the teaspoons and place them away in the drawer they are so separate now but today their used tea spoons sit in the same drawer i cannot have my mother and father together again they will now stand in the same room, but not for too long at least i can lay their spoons together to rest