maybe you can read this

[phaetra]

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 warm 
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'