This room isn’t big enough for me and your emotions
so you built a wall and put me on the other side.
The T.V. drones on.
Every now and then you’d remember I was supposed to be there and you’d peek to see if I still was.
Sometimes I was and sometimes I wasn’t.
It never really mattered which
as long as I seemed okay.
Appearances are important.
The sofa cushion sags beneath your sleepy weight.
I witnessed the pain you did not have the strength to hide
and it made me crumble inside.
Unable to deal with the tattered remnants of yourself,
I didn’t expect you to notice the scattered fragments that became me.
Flowers in the Attic lies open on the coffee table.
I blossom anyway.