Unraveling - Liz Longley

Boxes and baskets of all her old things

Porcelain dolls, portrait paintings

She swore they’d be worth something

They’re just gathering dust in my attic somewhere

And she’s lost in a room where she sits and she stares

Her mind as blank as the walls

Her memory as vacant as the halls

I’m the only daughter of her oldest son

I knew her well before her spirit was gone

And her life is a thread woven into every part of me

She is unraveling, she is unraveling

She looks in my eyes and asks me my name

Every five minutes I tell her the same

She smiles but it’s cold and dead

And I’m screaming out loud in my head

I’m the only daughter of her oldest son

I knew her well before her spirit was gone

And her life is a thread woven into every part of me

She is unraveling, she is unraveling

I tried to pull her back

Stories and photographs of her sisters and brothers

Her children who love her

She can’t remember but how could a heart forget?

I’m the only daughter of her oldest son

I knew her well before her spirit was gone

And her life is a thread woven into every part of me

She is unraveling, she is unraveling

I’ve been tearing through boxes on nights I can’t sleep

Searching for memories of who she used to be