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maybe you can read this - phaetra - 09-14-2019
i'm writing poetry again lately and here is this one. perhaps you can tell me if i'm terrible
i think most days i while away
with biting teeth and grinning
cheeks;
but when i see a reflection in a
passing window or muddied puddle,
there is no smile on my
face.
i thought i had life figured out with
her sashaying hips and elusive
sparkle, but when i caught her by
her sleeve she turned to dust and
bone.
when i stare at the clean pile of
laundry on my bed, i wonder
what broke me so terribly that
i cannot fold a single
shirt.
in this heartbreak i sit as fresh
laundry detergent and warmÂ
cloth holds me like a
mother;
god bless all of our stories
but hers i cannot seem to stop
blaming, with her empty hugs
and painful, biting
pride.
i am more like my mother than
i wish most days, blaming what
i cannot control on those around
me as if love is a chain and a
whip.
i lovingly call this one 'a mother's love will fuck you up'