Mother.
Mother, you don't understand,
you don't know what it's been like.
You tell me to walk away from compliments,
from breath perfumed with vanilla vodka,
and arms with sinews that my own lack.
Mother, you don't understand,
that satisfaction comes from blood
that someone else releases,
from nameless flesh pressing
against my own nameless flesh.
Mother, you don't understand,
even though you should know best,
that love has nothing to do with it,
and loss,
everything.
If you disapprove,
then you should know,
that mother,
it's all because of you.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
