Prom night blues

Life circles my head, like a vulture in waiting. I hang by a thread of cord spiralling out of control. I thrust my nails under the cord scraping away flesh that was once kissed by you, those soft lips that selfishly spoke of love and fortune. You held neither for me. Clutching the cord, my eyes glaze over, turning white and frail, I regret you, my life, but most of all the cord. My previous time spent as an egg, and embryo, a cell, a loved organism now swings in my mind like this cord swings to your knee. My lips turn blue and I dangle clutching the point of the coat hanger that pierced the veil of my sanctuary. 

Are you happy now?

mother