Each breath
is a reminder of the regrets
living in her body like a cancer…
Breathe in…
One, Two, Three…
Breathe out…
Now my mom’s free,
Or so she thought.
The smoke sends an illusion of peace.
The smell of ember burning,
getting closer and closer to death’s door
as it eats away the cigarettes,
While the time ticks slowly.
Each moment she lights the lighter,
The fire dances,
sending chills down her spine…
She knows it’s bad—
She said to me that she will get better,
but she gets bitter each minute
she holds the box of cigarettes
With the regrets she won’t let go.
Breathe in…
One, Two, Three…
Breathe out…
I don’t recognize my mom anymore.
I miss the old her.
The one who smiles and laughs,
Like a kid at a park.
Or whenever I cry with the fear of her dying
And disappearing,
she would hug me close and told me this;
“Don’t worry, baby…
Mama won’t let go of you.”
Now, she clutches a box of cigarettes.
Each breath she breathes
is a broken promise.
The mom I knew is fading in the smoke.
The mom I knew is in this photo,
But I want the real her.
Breathe in…
One, Two, Three…
Breathe out…
Now my mom’s gone from my life.
