Ananda

Let her rest in pieces.
Pieces of life,
Snippets of happiness,
Slices of light.

Let her bathe in sun spots,
Don’t smother her in your
Cold, dark embrace.
Your smoke clouds her vision
And enters her lungs,
So what she speaks
Is fraught with your bitter taste.

Let her caress her dreams
Instead of pushing your agenda
down her throat.
You throw shards of glass
As though they’re kisses
To be caught
And expect her to pull them inward.

Treat her like an adult
But remember she’s a child
A child sick of saving herself,
A child sick of saving you,
And reaping the consequences. ♦