Well, ol’ boy
stood in the vista, a little lost
but feet finding the pub
nonetheless

that sun tried to make its point
which, though we acknowledged,
we tried to sidestep

clag mud added heavy boots
while loose, happy chat sat
in apotheosis

til a moussaka
and a couple of sublime fish dishes
let us sit down and rest

after miles
these muscles pretend to ache

I shouldn’t be a mom

There’s no reason i should allow myself to bring children into this world
Children with the same problems that I have
How selfish of me to think and assume I deserve or am worthy of allowing myself to bring someone into this world with my issues?
The anxiety, the depression, the self deprecating thoughts

I wouldn’t be a good mom

How could I look into the eyes of my sons or daughters and know I brought them into this world to feel such immense pain?
What would give me the right to bring children into this hell full of negativity, poverty and intense drama?

I couldn’t be a good mom

How insanely asinine of me to think I should be projecting my problems into my spawn?
What part of my last twenty seven years of life would prompt me to believe I should feel the happiness and pride the mothers and fathers around me feel?


But what if all my honest, true, real self realization would make me the best mom ever?

I remember nothing of my childhood.
I just remember red. I
remember mum crying in my arms when i was 8.
I remember you- not a lot.
I only remember those last moments.
The ***** running down your legs. I remember the knot on the bed but not your face.
I remember becoming the family therapist after that. I remember all the times I had to grow up before I was 10.
I remember what was suppose to be my childhood.
But I never got to have one.
Once our sister was old enough to remember I wanted to save her but now when i look at her and what she does I'm sure I failed her too. But someone who is 10 should not be raising her sister.
She grew up never knowing you.
I grew up even faster after losing you.
It's selfish i know to want you here to take some of the responsibility away from me. So that I don't have to deal with mums stress seizures alone. Or raising our sister. Because if you were here we would have a childhood.
And i could lean on you, just like you could have always leaned on me. I wish you were still alive.
you are the only other person has has gone through loosing her too. But you instead saw what she did as a lesson to learn not something to avoid, I hate you for killing yourself when I needed you the most. I hate you for not ******* talking to me and leaning on me. but we were kids. you never got to grow up. So I did it for both of us and started early.
I can't really remember my childhood.
And could really use the memory of ours right about now.
Even if it never happened.

Baba tucks me into bed & I ask him to read me a story.
He tells me tales of foxes & rabbits,
Each one ending in glory.
I dream of baby bunnies with cotton tails & cottage houses,
Sneaky wolves with evil plans,
Being deceived by mouses.

Baba tucks me into bed & kisses my forehead goodnight.
We exchange our “I Love You’s” as he turns off the light.
I dream of my new school & wonder if the kids will like me,
Maybe if I pretend to be sick, Baba won’t have to take me.

I yell out to Baba “goodnight!” before closing my room door.
His footsteps keep me up at night,
Till 2 am, 3 am, 4…
I want to tell him that I’m concerned for his health,
That I love him & so much more.

I tuck Baba into bed & kiss his forehead goodnight,
Telling him tales of better days, before turning off the light…

My father used to be a stranger
occupying the same four walls I sheltered in
Occasionally offering me a tea
But forgetting I don’t drink milk.

He introduced me to the feeling of rage.
A mechanical voice box goading chemical reactions,
My catalyst, if you will.

Now we drink oat lattes together
And swear to fill the silence,
But it’s comfortable.

And when he messing up acronyms,
I correct him.

Because you sang to me when I could not sleep; because you held me when I needed it; because of the years of laughing and crying and other lovely and terrible emotions I see in the lines etched in your face; because you never once held me back, never once doubted me or my own path; because you never let all of the painful moments and mistakes I had pass without showing me what God wanted to teach me; because you accept my flaws, accept my needs, and push me to realize I am worthy of love and happiness; because you gave me the strong belief system that I rely on daily; because you showed me what a healthy family is, striking the dream of growing my own one day into my heart; & because you are my mom and dad; one I share your namesake, the other made me your spittin' image, and when I hear my name, or see my image in the mirror, I can't help but feel you close to me, and no matter the distance, I feel you holding me when I need it, and hear you singing to me when I cannot sleep.