To my mother, For myself

To my mother

I wish I could have appreciated you

While there was still someone worth praise

My childhood memories of board games

Played in the doorway

when you came home

Impatient of waiting for you to stay

I could run my finger along it and see it turn gray

Dust, dead skin cells returning to the womb

You walk and talk still, but

I cannot help but write you as a tomb

Your fingers can dance across a keyboard

But dust collects on you

As you were

Now you play his favorite sonata

While Candyland turns sour in the hall closet

You and I

A broken picture frame you cut your fingers on

Stroking my hair again and again

I’m sorry that I can’t be sorry for you

Not anymore

You cut my father out of your heart

And took me too

Your bandage called himself Mitch

Your ambulance rang church bells

You hollowed yourself out

Then hated the feeling of being empty

Golden memories rusted with age

And it looks like you’re gone forever

And it looks like you’re here to stay

Never meet your heroes