My mother
loves remembering dates
She counts how old I am
in days and tells me
that she loves me
In moments like this
regression feels like
the only way out
As a new child is born
an older sibling
will start wetting the bed again
Trying... hoping.. to go back
He left me
On February 17th
When people ask
how many years its been
I'd like to answer them in seconds
Sometimes
I write February 17th on November
I don't do it on purpose
I really...
don't think
I've lived
A second without you
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
My mother
loves remembering dates
She counts how old I am
in days and tells me
that she loves me
In moments like this
regression feels like
the only way out
As a new child is born
an older sibling
will start wetting the bed again
Trying... hoping.. to go back
He left me
On February 17th
When people ask
how many years its been
I'd like to answer them in seconds
Sometimes
I write February 17th on November
I don't do it on purpose
I really...
don't think
I've lived
A second without you
