I wasn’t who you made me,
I turned myself into that girl
who threaded her fingers
into the gaps between yours.
Lingered longer than should have
outside of cafes, and pocket shops,
between cobbles and walkways
where we strolled away afternoons
until the bus table declared enough
She who returned whenever she could
because you made her feel wanted,
told her she could be
and would be if you weren’t
Like I said,
she wasn’t her because of you.
I managed to make her all by myself.
Unmaking her was the part
I’m still learning how to do.
This is a poem I’ve written out a few times in various forms and never been quite happy with but tonight’s poetics prompt seemed like the perfect time to have another go at it. Still not sure I’ve got it right but I can always try again another day. Feedback as always is greatly appreciated if you have the time to spare.