Would you still love me if the night spoke my sin,

if the ash of my mistake clung to our bodies,

if the wind carried whispers of my guilt

and our skin bore the scent of shattered stars—

would your hands still gather me from the void?

“Mama tried,” Mama lied.
Mama stole your car and sold it for a price
Married five times, Mama never could decide.
Always called me ugly, but I have Mama’s eyes.
Betrayed by fate, Mama hates that she’s alive.
Stay up late at night just to hear Mama cry.
It’s hard to feel pity when Mama casts you to the side.
There was never any love in the house where Mama resides.
But sure, Mama tried. Mama Tried.

Pure white whispers fall,
soft embrace on black branches—
Winter's breath lingers.

Enormous oak stands,
silent witness to the peaks,
shadows blend with light.

Between two giants,
snow and silence weave their song,
timeless, cold, serene.