I want to write about you.

I want to voice

every part of you

that has clung to

every part of me.

A thick, heavy tar that you are

I can't seem to break free of.

I want to write about you.

I want to reveal,

every resentment I have

of the inevitable tie your motherhood

has had to mine.

I want to write about you.

I want to express,

release,

tear open my vulnerability to

every experience,

every feeling,

every heartache,

every wound

every trauma.

But, then, I am that quiet child,

once again,

brought back from buried time.

A shy child desperately wrapping

her tiny arms around herself,

sitting anxiously inside the presence

of yet another stranger's home.