the wind is blowing
but the world is still
when you laugh
the hurt in my heart
grows flowers in the cracks
I can feel you try to mend me
as I re-write the memories
but it is your sweet nectar
that keeps sticking to me
as I endlessly try to
wash myself clean
of all I was tied to
and I look back at those places
that once felt like safe spaces
and I feel weak in the knees
for not being brave enough
to open my eyes and see
that you never were
what you promised you'd be
I had made up this story
told it so well
and dressed it up in me
and now that you're gone
I spend my nights
un.dressing the ache
of the never-ending
echo of the child
I never got to name
yet for you,
it's nothing more than a story
an "almost, what-if, thank-goodness"
kinda thing
and that is why
it is always the mother
who carries the weight
who has to bleed
a power I have embodied the best
ever since you decided to leave