My mother is a widow
And a divorcee.
They say
Loneliness is inherited.
Isn\'t that always
The way?
I look into the mirror
And see
The worst parts
Of her face.
There\'s a curse on
The women
Of my family.
Grandmother, my mother
And me;
We attract tragedy.
Falling in love And then falling apart Is my only Legacy.
It starts in a garden;
A heart attack.
And then
The rope
That broke his back.
Does it end with me?
Will earth
Cut some slack for
A battered and broken
Paranoiac?
The hand-me-down
Necklace
Feels like a noose,
My mother\'s touch
Seems to burn.
And still,
I don\'t seem to learn
That love
Always ends in
An urn.
Always still I pause
To pray
That one day,
Someone will hear
My whole story
And still choose
To stay.
I\'ll deny my inheritence
And maybe
I\'ll turn out okay.