When i was 12 you would order sandwichs for me cause subway was to loud.
Id save you a seat next to me in the basement and you always made me feel a part of things.
Like it was ok to be there and I was wanted.
After you always walked me to the train or my dad.
You made sure I was safe and always included.
I hold that inside of me as memory of haveing a faimly and being loved.
You are my mental safe place,
so why now do you make feel like I need to slink away quietly and hide?
Why do I feel like spill that needs to be hidden from the adults?
You’ve always been there to clean me up and set things right,
so why do I feel like I live under the rug with the rest of the dust and crumbs of the past.
I know we change as we grow,
But have we changed that much?
You loved me once,
I called you brother.
Where is my brother now?
the writing desk 