being a family was never our thing,
yet, we came together as a family,
plastered smiles on our faces
and smiled for the camera.
.
yet, we came together as a family,
with knives in our backs bleeding us dry,
and smiled for the camera.
if only they could see the cracks.
.
with knives in our backs bleeding us dry,
we huddled around to get the perfect shot.
if only they could see the cracks
plaguing our bodies inside and out.
we huddle around to get the perfect shot
as the picture-perfect family.
plaguing our bodies both inside and out
are the memories of our disjointed family.
.
sitting around as the picture-perfect family with
plastered smiles on our faces,
remembering the memories of our disjointed family but
being a family was never our thing.
.
with plastered smiles on our faces
while secretly breaking on the inside
knowing that being a family was never our thing
but to hell if we didn’t seem like it
-Primrose Morrison
*written in a poetry writing workshop class
Prompt: Take out an old family photo and address the people in it or have them speak. Write about what’s not in the frame: What happened before or after this picture was taken? What does the writer know now that the people in the photograph did not know then? Or try comparing two photographs – one past, one present. Consider what happened in the time between the two
