avatarAlison McBain

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Abstract

ause I wouldn’t show her how to paper mâché</p><p id="22cd">I had regrets losing my creation I tried to take back what was no longer mine</p><p id="27a0">when I was ten I lived through earthquakes and aftershocks the sky fell but we put it up again</p><p id="a489">by thirteen, it was too late too late to heal broken bones Santa Claus had died and we never said goodbye</p><p id="1cb0">belief is a good hole to hide in when you can but sometimes it becomes too many feet deep too many decades traveled</p><p id="55e2">Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this poem, please check out my others here:</

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p><div id="d719" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/poetry-c81a5256892"> <div> <div> <h2>Poetry</h2> <div><h3>Here’s a collection for your reflection of published poem after poem which all call Medium home.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*QVcZ5inh3vS4EC2W)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

We Never Said

A poem about family & growing up

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

there must have been a moment that it broke I don’t remember when

recollection of seven: my sister paid me a quarter for my art because I wouldn’t show her how to paper mâché

I had regrets losing my creation I tried to take back what was no longer mine

when I was ten I lived through earthquakes and aftershocks the sky fell but we put it up again

by thirteen, it was too late too late to heal broken bones Santa Claus had died and we never said goodbye

belief is a good hole to hide in when you can but sometimes it becomes too many feet deep too many decades traveled

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this poem, please check out my others here:

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