And it went like this:
You gave me flowers,
I wanted a garden instead.
You cooked me spaghetti,
I was too hungry to eat.
There was sauce on your shirt
from your labor.
The untouched plate
was the sky. The sky was
a blessing unnoticed.
I wanted to be your center,
your four-leaf clover,
the wishbone split.
But even though I came
to you with open hands,
I didn’t know it then, but
the emptiness wasn’t
yours to fill.
Then everything wasn’t enough.
Now I sow regret into a dress
of deep blue and remember
when you offered me needle
and thread. You tried to stitch
me a pocket of self esteem.
I tore the stitch into.
The tear became the lesson.
Now I long to open my lips
and breath you in,
to hold you without
chains or cheap a cliché
Knowing now that enough
was everything.
-Tosha Michelle
Everything I Never Told You 