Poem: Dear Mum,

I need you,
Not you, actually,
But someone to fill the shoes
You stepped out of.
Someone to tell me it’ll be okay,
When the world turns dark and menacing;
Someone to offer guidance
When I’m lost and confused;
Somoene who will be there,
No matter what.
I’m lucky, in that I have people who love me,
Who will be those things,
But my treacherous heart whispers
“It should be you.”
And it kills me,
To want a mother,
But not my mother,
To not miss you,
To appreciate the ways my life
Is better after you died.
Saying that “ugly truths
Are no less true for being ugly,”
Doesn’t make me feel less a monster.
But, even more than this,
It makes me angry
That you refused to be my mum
When you had the chance.
It makes me angry
That my inheritance is
Burned bridges and unfinished business.
It is beyond my grasp
Why you did this to us,
And even eighteen months with the puzzle
Hasn’t made your words and deeds any clearer,
So all I have left to hold is
Your absence, past and present.

I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s