Mother

Chocolate bars full of nougat and peanuts, Sour gummies that get stuck in teeth, Chalky fruit-flavored tablets, Things coated in colorful candy shells, With metallic wrappers I constantly hear crinkle, Covering an entire square foot of countertop. The smell of coffee brewing at late hours, Messes of creamer and sugar left unclean, Mini donuts and cookies to dip in, A constant sweet tooth that is never satisfied. Better than cans and glass bottles overflowing the trash. Better than the yeasty smell stuck in the air. Sticky spills in the refrigerator, Stains on carpet, Broken lamps and vases, Falling down the stairs, The loss of someone still living. Better than a drink before dropping off the kids at school. Better than sleeping during the day. Acting like this is normal. Growing to an age where you start to notice the signs, Constant crying and wondering why, Never inviting friends over, they might notice, Pouring things down the drain that I’m not supposed to touch, Empty promises of quitting. Maybe if I was a better daughter. Staying up on school nights making sure she gets to bed safe, Remembering to lock doors for her, Taking care of her child only four years younger than I, Losing hope.