my mother taught me how to play solitaire.
she taught me the ways to survive being alone,
perfected on nights when the silence was too much to bear.
listening to her cry from the top stair.
when the men of the week have long since flown
never will i ever cry like this, I swear.
War was the game for my father to share.
Anger was always where his star truly shone.
Fights began to give me a certain flair.
Now he just wanted me to get out of his hair.
I knew better than to talk to him with that tone.
I look at the cards to avoid his harsh stare.
I long for the end of this glare.
I shake and I know that the cover is blown.
I wish to be alone, to end this game of scare.
I can now take a breath of fresh air.
But now every time I look at my phone.
I open an app called solitaire.
And I feel that silence start to tear.