poem, Prosetry

Little Rectangles of Hope – Brooke Safferman

Little Rectangles of Hope



It drips from your lips

Like some toxic saline solution

You always preferred for me to be the sweet one.


The unknown: the sun not yet risen, the butterfly still in his cocoon

I am suffocating from the words you will not say

Nervous and afraid, with those sweaty palms I love so much

Commitment was never really your style, no matter how painfully

I wish it was.


Worrying so strong, it becomes a tangible force

Quicksand, you laugh as you sink deeper within

I’ll play the role of the caretaker, you, the needy child

You throw your medication out when I look the other way.


Dull and numb, you say

You shake your head when I shove the bottle back at you

Commit to them, I plead

Commit to me, I plead

You shake your head when I shove the pressure back at you.


Whoever knew that an enemy could take the form of

Little rectangles of hope?


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