Mom what do I do with all this love? I have so much left for you but it has nowhere to go. I can feel it fester inside me. It wants to be jagged, it wants to be bitter, it wants to be sharp. I won’t let it. I won’t let it. I won’t let it.
Mom what do I do with all this heartache? From grief, from sickness. From new love and old. From realizations and denial. From death and rebirth. From patterns and whims.
Can you hear me when I talk to you? Can you see me learning, growing, stumbling? Do you like my hair? My house? Do you think I’m being an idiot?
I’d give anything to argue with you again.