'Pain' 'Family' 'Mom' 'Past'
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I remember my first facebook funeral
You know it’s kinda hard to tell an eight year old that someone she’s loved is dead
but only dead for the facebook pitty
My feet hurt
They hurt from having to walk on eggshells around you
In fear to set you off
In your little ball of fire that you quote on quote can’t control
I endured without you.
Every heartbreak.
Every tear shed.
Every pillow thrown.
I had others but I needed you.
I needed motherly advice and to be held when I cried.
Your hunger for wanting what was between my legs at the age of five. All the blood coming out making me empty inside. My childhood being torn away like a leaf floating in the air.
Dear Mother,
Did you ever consider you didn’t love me?
Perhaps, only the idea of me.
I gave you purpose which you sought so desperately, I filled that void, that loneliness left deep within you like a chasm.
HOW IS TOO MEMORABLE?
IS NOT THAT MY WORLD !!
I WONDER WHEN I ASKED THSES QUESTION TO ME !!!
IS THIS ME !!!
WHO DROWNED ALL TIME IN PAST.
Dear Mom,
Most the time dad was not home
So you were the one who raised me
I almost put you through so much pain
I could never tell you to your face
Black ice bites fingertips.
sharp edges, shrapnel travel up long bladed, byzanite blue fingernails.
Thin frost, covers a dandelion ring.
Her strong hands, always chilled.
