hours on weeks of
dim ceiling
light strips through blind

man's voice gentle mature kind
accepting but not grasping all
& I cannot see your face

& I am not held
though reduced to lonely pained
infancy in a little room

on my back in silence
you tell me I need years of this
& with righteous tears I leave you

having learned to walk out doors
to get away from a place of care
where no one's wholly there
c2001 EOS
This page was last updated on: June 6, 2011