Dear mother,
The greatest regret in my life is to not being able to be the daughter that you always imagine of.

And I am sorry.

Dear mother.

You want a sign?
Honey, if you are in need
of a sign to convince yourself
that it is right,
it probably
isn't.

We're still friends,
     Well, not really,
But we talk,
     Well, not exactly,

I text "Hi",
And you ask how I am,
But you don't care,
So I lie,

Or maybe,
     Maybe you do care,
But I can't see-
     Why anyone would,

So I say "Hi",
And lie,
And we don't talk,
When we talk.

The burning flames of pain lick at my scorched and fragile soul, I fear that one more heartbreak will leave it crumbling into ashes.

My heart welcomes despair with open arms, he tells me all the things I don't want to hear.
Tells me all the truths I run from during the day, but I cannot escape them as the sun goes down.

They scrape at me, scratching incessantly at my delicate soul, they coat me with their words, their bitter carefully selected truth that I cannot tune out.

Death becomes more appealing, why should I not end my suffering and give in to the sweet caress of misery?
Giving up has never seemed more alluring than it does at 2 am. It seduces me with promises of peace and silence.

Silence from the voices that are constantly screaming at me. I cannot drown them out, their echoes are deafening in my ears. Haunting, they are all I can hear.

Despair is my constant companion, whispering in my ear. Hope helps me tune him out and quiet the hurting. Hope continues to save me, hope is all that I can cling to when the world gets too dark to pretend that I am normal.

I will never be normal, I do not know how to be happy. My self hate chokes me, the pressure of being alive is a constant weight on my chest. I will never escape this.

But hope is there to soothe me, telling me all will be okay even if I know deep down I will not be. Hope chases away the attraction of death, for one more day.
I fear for the day that death becomes too enticing to ignore,
for now hope drives it away, leaving the dull aching and the desperate wanting to be gone.

I still look for you
at the grocery store.
I still search the cars
at gas stations.
I still hope that we will
bump into each other
at the movies
or in a restaurant.  

I hope,
and I wish,
and I imagine.
I play it over
and over,
again and
again.

But every time
I make it back to my car,
I realize you are still
so far away,
and I will just have to
visit you
in my dreams.

m.e.