I tried to forget about you
As the summer passed
And autumn arrived
While the air grew cooler
And your touch became
A distant mountain
That refused to move
With the slow pace
When times got hard—
I tried to lock away my feelings
And failed miserably
When the sun became too bright
And your memory
Painted all my dreams
The shade of dusk
I tried to escape
Thoughts of you
With a heavy heart
And an empty shadow
Of who I used to be
Only to remember
I wasn’t really living
Until I found you;
My days had a feeling
When your hands held mine
And your love
Always kept me burning
For something more
Than what I believed
When I spend nights
Under clouds of loss
I pull tree branches
Close to my chest
Just to feel something;
I’ve locked a piece of my heart
Inside of yours
And it’s impossible to forget
That the beating in my chest
Matches the beating in yours
No matter the distance between us
So forgive me as I try to forget you
Even though it’s done in vain,
I’ll keep pretending
To spend my days
Looking for your replacement
When knowing it does not exist.
Google search: how to fill the mother shaped hole I have in my chest.
What do I fill it with? I’ve tried
taking the most maternal pieces I’ve found
in my therapists and stuffing it into my chest
like toilet paper in a bra but something
always goes wrong. Blood seeps
deep into toilet paper rapidly & then becomes
more danger than gauze & I can’t help
but remove it from my heart because
the maternal parts of the therapist
didn’t belong there in the first place &
everyone knew it except for me.
Google search: how to accept the fact that I will never have the mom that I have always needed.
That no matter what I do or say,
or how much I plead with whatever power
lives up above and decides what happens
here on earth to give me a re-do or
to give me a woman here who will take on
the mother role,
I will never have the mom
I have always needed.
Google search: what is it going to take for me to move forward knowing I will never have what I need?
What has to happen for me to stop
taking a blade to the soft flesh of my wrist
every time I don’t get what I need?—
every time I look for a mom in the eyes
of the nice woman working at TGI Fridays or
the dental hygienist who cleans my teeth
& wipes a tear from my cheek while I shake
in the dentist chair & tells me
I did a good job when it’s over or
every time a person who my mind has
already labeled “fill-in mom” doesn’t
fit inside the mother shaped gaping
wound in my heart.
What has to happen in order for me
to stop searching for love inside eyes
that do not have what I need inside them?
What has to happen in order for me
to stop emptying myself out when those people
who I want to love me like a mother loves
her daughter don’t have that capacity?
Google search: tell me a good story about your own mom.
Tell me about the time when she
rubbed your back & sang a lullaby to your
sick, aching heart. Tell me about
how she made you chicken noodle soup
& stayed home from work with you
because she loved you & wanted to do
nothing more than help you
Tell me about the time when
you fell down & scraped your knee &
you went crying to your mommy & she
grabbed a pretty baindaid & kissed
your bruise & said, “all better!”
Tell me about your first break up & how
your mom came home early that day
with ice cream & trashy movies &
held you in her arms as you cried
until you had nothing left in your heart but
the love of your mommy’s soft touch.
Google search: how to make it stop hurting so much.
I can’t go a day without feeling this
missing piece inside of me & some days
it aches less than others but on the days
when the aching has total hold of me
there is no relief. No one can do anything
to make it better; there is no word in the world
that could save me from the pain of knowing
that I will have to live the rest of my life
without the love I needed maternally.
I need to find a way to stop hurting;
a way to make the world stop turning on the days
when the pain takes control of my body
& all I can feel is the way my mom’s touch
was a bullet & she was the gun &
I need to find a way to make the noose
around my neck loosen its grip before
I suffocate inside the truth.
Google search: the truth is that I’ll never have a mom. How do I accept this? How do I move on? How do I live without that love?
Google search: the sadness is overtaking me.
One night, my mom was in a good mood & she came into my room to sing me to sleep—she never did this, it was a new thing. I was laying in bed & she was sitting on the carpet next to me, leaning her back against my nightstand when she began to sing.
“Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you,
tomorrow I’ll miss you,
remember I’ll always be true.”
I felt my eyes begin to fill up with tears, though I wasn’t sure why & feelings were never safe so I hid it & pretended I was fine.
“And then while I’m away,
I’ll write home everyday,
and I’ll send all my lovin’
I could not control it, I let out a loud sob & said,
“Please don’t leave me mommy! I promise I’ll be good, I’ll do anything!” & my mom grabbed my hand & said, “don’t worry, Baby, I’ll never leave.” & when she left my room that night I laid in bed & cried & cried & didn’t know why.
Google search: why do the good memories hurt more than the bad ones?
Why am I still crying at that song
by the Beatles & the memory of my mom
grabbing my hand & assuring me
she would never leave when
I’m now an adult & can see
all the awful things that my mom did to me?
Google search: how to stop wanting a mommy like the version of my mommy who randomly sang to me.
my hands are dragging along the walls as I try and find my way out, but my own voice is echoing through these abandoned halls and the fingerprints I am leaving behind me like a trail are too small to be from now, maybe it was all lost when I was a little girl left in the canned good aisle in a supermarket that has long since closed; I still can’t find my way back to the sliding doors that always seemed to open on their own- isn’t it funny how magic exists and problems don’t when you are too little to know that life is just getting lost in a bunch of different places.
- on wandering through a life I don’t remember entering || O.L.
“Boys, you must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said,
"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation ”. Don’t be resigned to that. Break out!“
Moon, swearing I’ll give my light to you alone
Moon was unmoved
Knowing too good to be true
From all the other times
She drew too close
Lured by the light
Only to be burned
So she turned her face
And vowed to