i'll make believe
i never saw your face
beneath the moon

but that glow will forever
haunt me

and i'll long for you
every n i g h t

Mother may I tell you the truth?
      That these demons been all haunting my insides.
Mother can I be honest for once?
      Cause the truth seems out of my reach.
Mother How often do you cry for me?
       I know them liquor bottles stopped doing their trick.
Mother why'd it all come out to this?
       Our words still sharp, the scars they left refuse to heal.
Mother tell me when I can come home.
       Winter is coming and I got no more warmth left in me.

Wine pools, trickles into the water.
The stench of cooper is strong.

it's a little ironic
that there is something wrong with my heart
that I, this hopeless poet, has a defect
in her favorite topic, her favorite metaphor-
and that this, this, the source of her life, should fail her.

I used to be afraid it was written on my forehead
and now I want to *shout it from the rooftops

and I would love you
until you *broke