It Was Not a Dream (Part I)

I built myself a tower after you left
and I found you rummaging around it
with a shopping cart full to the brim
of glowing packages.

Like loot boxes of various value,
each one floated just above the floor
of the shopping cart, bouncing softly against the other
as you corralled them all toward your lair.

You were frantic, collecting everything
you could touch; and your greedy fingers curled into pointed claws.
I was struck with curiosity and rage
because you, again, had breached my fortress.

Without acknowledgment, I followed you
to an old shed nearby where I saw you deposit
all the items you so gleefully snatched up
into a wardrobe; there was so much more staring back at us behind those doors.

My eyes read the shelves from the top to the bottom:
My Master’s Degree, wooden mounted and golden plated;
The first book I ever published, signed by me;
Evidence of my happiness as a child.

I began to cry and ask you,
"Why did you take all this?"
You smiled triumphantly back at me,
"Because I wanted them. I wanted everything.”

I looked away from your smirk and continued to scan the shelves:
The rare items: my happiness and my strength,
the legendary items: my health and my self-esteem,
and the enchanted items: my sanity, and my path back to myself.

I had no more questions. There was nothing more to say.
So I banned you and walked away.
Perhaps, years too late, but it didn’t matter
because what’s mine is mine again.

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