Through my mother’s thinning hair,
I see her scalp,
and I realize that I don’t know her at all.


Over and over, like a broken record, with 3 straight glasses of *****,
This boy sat on the floor of the living room, and talked about his relationship,
“it’s a routine, it’s a pattern, you fall into it, and you just never leave.”
but my father walked out, and left me standing in a living room full of boxes,
containing his possessions.


And I held my ***** on my last 12 hour drive,
my last tree smeared, day dream.

Where the colors all come
together in different shades through each leaf.