Backs

Being small is okay, being small and a child is difficult
You bump into things that for average people is at eye level
You have to climb things to get to see
You have to be picked up

I never was. Picked up that is.
I climbed the chairs, counters…the occasional ladder to regret
I tip toed, jumped and still all I saw was their backs
And I learned to forget about their faces

There’s a lot of things that being small takes away from you
Backs aren’t that interesting, but just like different colored cars on the highway
They can be entertaining and any view is better than having none at all
Right?

When I first saw my dad’s back, I still hadn’t learned the meaning of the word I love you
I reached my arms to be picked up but he couldn’t see me
I got lost in the pile of debts, the lack of marital love and his psychopathy
His back was stiff, strong and he would never turn around

My mom’s back was smooth. She had the back of someone who had never worked a day
Her back supported her every day as she sat on the porch chair staring into the distance
I reached my arms to be picked up. She could see me but didn’t want to
I got lost in childhood trauma, selfishness and low emotional IQ

My lovers’ back were the embodiment of hell
Each carried with them regret, apathy, empathy and pain
I reached to be picked up and for the first time they turned around to slam me on the ground
I got lost in the fights, the depression and the unbearable feeling that you’re never enough

I have a love-hate relationships with backs
I still climb sometimes, but mostly I crawl
Sometimes I lay still and I admire people’s feet
Sometimes they forget I’m on the floor

Being small is okay. I just want to be someone’s back
I want to not have my face seen but I forget
I don’t know anyone still trying this hard
To be picked up

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