Tuesday, August 25, 2015

I take responsibility for the early years
 I am not sure after that,
mothers, daughters, vicious, clamoring,
do you think my mom would have hurt less
if she had gotten over her fear of stabbing me,
My own self infliction did not work so well.

I am honeycomb glue for boys
who can not fix their own problems,
I would rather not tell a man any of this
Because maybe my glue might stick on him.

How I love is a lie if it makes my mother
too hurt to cry,
sometimes I wish she had just stabbed me as a child
And had done so with a smile.

We would be even.

I'm not sure what would come afterward,
I hold on too restlessly to hold still for anymore self infliction.

A mother with two daughters
you know how vicious this gets,
do you think we would all be hurting less
if she had gotten over me looking like her child
and had started pushing the knife in my hand
My own self infliction didn't come out too well.
I would rather not tell any man about this,
I'm glue and I can't fix my own problems,
How love is a lie stabbed with a smile.

We are even.