You do not know mother,
how hard it has been:
to love as people go
taking pieces of me as they leave.
You cannot know,
what it does to me.
To be emptying stomach
in bright lit places.
Sleeping with strangers,
burning my insides,
just to sleep.
I feel mother you sorrow,
I failed myself too:
As my face falls,
I watch just as helpless as you.
Collecting hair
from crimson rivulets
over ceramics,
and father’s hopes,
off marred skin.
Let me sleep mother,
for a while more;
It’ll pass,
let’s hope.
-Courtesy of a very good friend and writer 🙂
randomaveragegirl 