If my mother read my poems
She would think I was in love.
I'd have to explain to her
"How could I be in love with anyone if I can't even love myself?"
If even the thought of love makes me sick
To the point I feel like going days without eating
Humanity has a notion of love
It's all consuming
             all powering
      all people want
But if I can't care for myself
How is it right that others expect me to care for them?
My mother, if I were to line my body
With my favorite quotes and phrases and lyrics,
Would think I was in love
But aren't love and hate closely alined?
Coiling around your body and gripping you till you don't know yourself
From your obsession
If my mother read my poems
She'd think I was in love
So deep in love that I've lost myself
So deep in love that I've found myself
So deep in love that I never had a self to begin with
If you see my mother read my poems.

*You'll see her cry