"3am Bed-Time Story"
She said to me,
"Rest now little one"
"No" I condescended
"Do the dreaming for me"
"My eyes, I let then talk for themselves"
She turns her upper lip into that pursed dissapointment I always hated
then a sigh with a tilt in the brow
"go on" I said, predicting her next movements
"turn away with a resignation"
I laughed at this point
She failed to see the humor
"not bitter"
I acceded a small smile just to give her something, anything.
She needed more.
She deserved more.
I looked down at my hands.
"but I cannot give it to you"
I keep her always at arms-length.
There, I can keep her safe.
My porcelain doll, so full of strength.
"I am the bottle here, aren't I?" my mind asked.
And then I hated myself again.
Later, I would feel guilt, horrific, pointless guilt, like an embrace.
"Shh." it whispered back, "Wait until she leaves."
