I never wanted
to hate you.
We could just never
make it through
a conversation
without some
confrontation.
Bringing up the past;
fermentation
of unrealistic
expectations.
And I’m not saying
that I’m the saint
of this situation.
I know that I’ve been
vacant.
But can you blame me
for trying to preserve
my memory
of the mother
you used to be;
smiles not filtered
through amphetamine.
Teeth gleaming,
eyes seeing
past the woes of this world
you created me for.