you said, i promise.
as if growth were a plane ticket
stretch, hop, skip, and jump away
as if the earthquake fury of your body
could hold a word so topsy turvy
so truly unsure of itself.
you said, i’ll never be my mother.
surely you must’ve learned
to push people away
we’ll pretend not to notice
all the empty rooms
you splatter within.
we’ll dance our stomachs
raw with illusion
smoke sweet slithers of denial,
your unlimited credit card of sorrys.
I never stopped wanting
to know the cure
to figure out the impossible way
of loving someone healthy again