Friday, July 11, 2014

I sat down with my mother the other night after
a dozen drinks, each; 
she is the strongest woman i know.

in 57 years she has had her heart broken twice, by my brother
and I.

she apologized, slurring, leaning on the kitchen counter, 
for not seeing the signs earlier even though they were written in each of our
DNA like poems, an inability engraved in each helix. 
i was 6 years old and grasping at her hand, i was 9 years old and hiding in my room, i was 14 years old and hiding in myself, i was 18 years old and spiraling down as if 
i'd lost my wings 

she tells me to write a book but i 
don't know if it would break her heart
a third.

1 comment:

S. said...

(i think you should write a book too).

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