pay phones don’t ring

they scream out obscenities

an intermittent singing

starched white sheets

in a hospital setting

the nurses saw me crying

made no move to stop me

if this is getting better

I no longer believe

in mental reprieve

The 7-year-old sat on the top of the steps. She really wished that she could go to see her mom's side of the family. There she was always able to find someone to play with. But today she was alone. She wasn't someone who typically wanted to play house or dress up, but she wanted to play with her cousins, so she did. But they really didn't give her the time of day. She gave up on trying to get them to play with her. They wanted to play video games, and watch movies she wasn't allowed to watch. She stared at the pencil marks on the wall, measuring all the grandkids' height throughout the years. She stood on different steps, trying to match their heights to hers. Still bored she went upstairs and found her grandmother in the kitchen and asked if she could help. For the next hour, she had something to do.

Some things never change. Every time she got through to her cousins, every time she had something going, it would get cut off. She would have a real conversation about their lives, then someone would come along. Her record was an hour. She was just the brush-off. So she would try to play their games, and watch their movies. But she always grew bored. She would be there for them, but they were never there for her. She was what they wanted. Just another person. But she didn't mind that much. She had learned that she felt most at home in the kitchen, and with the adults. Not with the others her age. She had learned over the years to bring some kind of entertainment such as her tablet or a good book, or both. She was just the brush-off.

He met me on the way.

And Molded my heart like playing with clay.

I forgot the night or day.

But for him,

It was just a play.

I was left alone.

Like a ship on the bay.

Got lost like a needle in hay.

Maybe I’m the kind of person you leave behind at truck stops

Or that granola bar in the bottom of your bag

You leave me there but once I get too crushed you throw me away

Maybe I’m just the type of person you make plans with and instantly regrets them

Because I made 6 plans this weekend and none of the people remembered me

Or to call me and say they weren’t coming

I was just left here waiting

And I keep telling myself it’s okay

They must have forget people forget sometimes

But

Am I really so forgettable

…so unwanted