mother dearest
tell me when this hellhole of a house
is meant to start feeling like a home
tell me when my body
will stop feeling like a misaligned,
jumbled mess of skin and bones

mother dearest
tell me when my heart will stop hurting
over people i lost but never got to meet
tell me when i'll stop feeling sorry
for all my lost dreams
i let get crushed beneath my feet

mother dearest
tell me how i'm expected to let myself be loved
when not even you
afforded me that luxury i dreamed of
when not even you
would take me as i am; tell me
how am i meant to feel loved ever again

mother dearest
tell me how it's possible
to claim to love your own
and yet at the same time
to leave them
all
alone

mother dearest
i still love you

[after] it happened
there was not [much] else
i [thought,] about
nothing
had ever hurt me [this] much
i stayed up for days
and barely ate for days after that,
thinking, "this all there [is]
and this is all there ever will be"
and [my] insides caved in
my [last] home
had crumbled
had withered away like the rest of them
had said "[goodbye.]"
without even uttering a word
well,
these are my words:
[i'm] [sorry.]

there are times where
i can't quite get myself
to say "we"

somehow it feels too intimate
somehow, it feels as though
i'm crossing lines i should not
by referring to "us" as one

even "you and i"
seems to blur
these invisible lines

i don't know quite yet
but i'd like to think
there's still time

they were more for comfort, anyway
so i didn't think it mattered
that the end of the laces began to fray
and the exterior was tattered

it was more for my own peace
so i paid it no mind
how it hung well past my knees
or how the white had greyed with time

they soothed the lonely nights
so i think i felt upset
and when they left without a goodbye
i guess i feel regret