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poetry

Younger

I wrote this one morning after being awoken much too early. By what? I don’t remember. All I remember is the emotion […]

I met my mother once

But younger

And he didn’t have her smile

Or maybe he did, but switched

He was taller than a tower

With eyes that melted in their sockets

And my heart.

He reminded me of all the songs she did

Three decades later

Funny how music doesn’t change

Or how people don’t change

“Low Man’s Lyric” still pounds in my head

As my mother lies down

And he lied away

I wanted to know how to fix him

And I still haven’t figured out my mother

I don’t think there’s fixing

Medication only goes so far

Therapy can be just as averse

He hated therapy

But I loved him so much

I saw a therapist to cope

I love my mother so much

I use faith to hope

I think sometimes that there are things my mother won’t ever tell me

And I know there are things he didn’t tell too

Sometimes I think those secrets are not for me

If I knew, I might break down

If I knew, I might just be like her

Or him

Or anyone who knew the weekly vitamin cartridges weren’t full of vitamins

And who constantly asked their dad why mom wasn’t getting up

Who saw shut doors

And silent tears

That screamed help me

Please help me

Or worse, nothing at all

I met a boy who reminded me of my mom

A boy who I cut contact with because he made me sad

I met a boy who I fell in love with

But at least my mom loves me back

I never saw that boy again

But I see my mom everyday

And every day I wonder about how I connected the two

And if I’ll ever learn enough to confirm.

***

I wrote this one morning after being awoken much too early. By what? I don’t remember. All I remember is the emotion that wrote this poem, and how I didn’t feel like myself for the rest of the day.

By griffalice

A poet, an artist, and an explorer.

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