A Mother’s Love

Glossy staircases risen to

the gods, wallpaper that

has seen no bumps or rips.

Carpet dressed with no stains.

Stains of a specific kind of hurt.

One bump formed from one

silly act, an act with no disregard

of care and love; time picks at the

skin of paint, slowly, the wallpaper wrinkles;

awoken more than once by the

shine of a light the floors creak

like the rock of a cradle;

and the stairs squeak.

Words of significance; words of meaning

Aimed for one but a cover

for all, worn staircases,

often trod on and frames

slammed as frequent as a broken heart.

Carpets stained with a salty hurt; two

rooms decorated with regret.

The staircase is broken.

The carpet is now dressed in dirt and the wallpaper redecorated. Everything that seemed is not as though. One room decorated with absence.

The ceiling like flickers above.

Time won’t heal.

Time redecorates and helps you learn.

Broken stairs and dirty carpets will do,

for those are memories I built with you.

A murmur of light is enough light for me.

Now a home to one, but a remembrance of

Two.