I was there
in the middle of it all;
the ashes beneath the fire.
I was the kindling
but not the beautiful flame
so no one noticed me
or acknowledged the life that I created.
you
supported by me
or more like
supported by my crooked and dry wooden frame
that provide an alter beneath you
or maybe like
supported by my spine
composed of so many fragile aching bones
that are already broken-
you use them as your pedestal.
you've broke me
you've broke the one thing that held me together
so teach me how this once fluid and nostalgic,
yet now tragically incapacitated
body,
should function,
in the way that it should
in the way that its supposed to?
hurry
take the rest
take what you need
take all of me
the last of me
because i am too broken to stay here
to create another mountain beneath you.
but was i ever supposed to?
i do not know.
ilc