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Ode To My Teddy Bear
November 17, 2007
He’s crumpled in a brown mass
beside my now slammed door.
He used to be the source
of my comfort.
plush tummy soaked in tears,
resting in my chunky arms,
ripping emotions out of me,
making me numb,
during the fights,
the screams,
the pain.
Now he sits on my bed;
missing one eye,
once soft fur, matted
a different source of comfort.
Instead of clutching him,
I launch him across the
room to slam the door . . .
shutting myself from them,
during the fights,
the screams,
the pain.
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