Details |
Bangel F. Poem
When I was little,
life was supposed to be filled with laughter,
sticky fingers from melting ice cream,
and afternoons lost in make-believe,
toy cars and plastic dinosaurs battling in the living room.
I’d look up at the adults, safe in their tallness,
never guessing that one day,
I’d be the one holding up the walls.
Instead, my afternoons were cluttered with sighs,
echoing through a quiet house,
where I’d drag your slumped figure from the front steps,
breathe in the stale scent of beer that clung to you
like a second skin.
Eight years old, trying to stand tall enough
to be your keeper.
When I was little,
Mom was supposed to pack my lunch,
Capri Suns and fruit roll-ups,
instead, mom wasn't ever there
I was busy slicing bread,
rationing out the peanut butter,
making sure my little brother had more than crumbs.
I’d wanted crayons, chalk, new paintbrushes, OH! the pink bike, and maybe an iphone
but my pockets held grocery lists,
my hands chapped and rough,
scrubbing dishes, sweeping floors,
Searching for that imaginary line
that had been drawn somewhere
between us:
the parent I wished for,
the parent I became.
Copyright © Bangel F. | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Bangel F. Poem
All I do is sleep, cook, clean,
the rhythm of each day blurring into the next.
Morning breaks and I’m on my feet,
scrambling eggs, packing lunches,
wiping counters and tears alike.
I never did have those things
they say make a girl whole.
I never went to the gym,
never had a boyfriend,
never walked the halls with a smile,
arms linked with friends.
School is just a place in stories.
Friends are faces I can barely remember.
It’s me and these walls,
these dishes, this laundry,
the soft cries of my siblings in the night.
I never dressed up for prom,
never knew the thrill of whispered secrets,
hidden notes passed in class,
the simple joy of not being needed.
It’s strange how normal that seems now—
a life that doesn’t ask for anything back.
I am the hands that tuck them in,
the voice that soothes, the arms that hold.
Outside, the world hums by—
proms, laughter, things I’ve never known.
But here, in this house,
I am everything and nothing.
Just a girl who learned too young
to carry the weight of lives.
Copyright © Bangel F. | Year Posted 2024
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