A sip turns into a glass
turns into a bottle.
Watching it swirl in the glass grew old.
It needed to swirl in her mind,
In her heart, in her eyes.
Slowly but surely,
It started to swirl in her world.
She saw the end of endless bottles,
She saw the fracture of hearts.
The cold glass gave her slippery finger tips.
She could not hold on to my hand.
She could not hold on to my heart.
I had nowhere to land when I fell,
I asked her, I begged her to care.
But I was falling too far, too fast.
The position for mother was calling,
But that heart-sunk soul was on a mission.
Making one feel worthless was an art,
That only Mother could test.
Those stained kisses,
Kept me alive in the strangest of ways.
At the same time,
They were like daggers, like knives.
I belonged in her womb,
I belonged to her wounds.
Now I fit nowhere;
Not in your arms,
Not in your eyes,
Not in your heart.
Todays poetry contest submission was written by Lee.
Do you think it could be the best new poem in 2013?