Plurality,
whisper the first part,
drawl the rest.
Let it wash over you,
like a wave.
It tossed and turned in her,
she cried she laughed
awestruck and then crushed.
She hadn’t lived long enough
to recognise the plurality
She cried and cried
at the strangeness of it all,
of her all.
People told her one version.
She saw another version in the mirror.
Family grew up with an another of her.
And then on the bluest of days,
when time just gushed with reminders
she would remember each and every version.
She will break with the guilt
of all their regrets.
She will shy away
and cower against the bed.
Tomorrow is the darkest,
stained with her fear of what it would bring.
the same, staid colours
or those she had never felt before.
Feeling too much had
never scared her before.
Now she was terrified,
too hurt to forget all the times
she had been crushed.
Chicken on a tree,
couldn’t go anywhere
except whimper from side to side.
#251 