joy is fleeting, an academic one,
like colors in words, or the flavor of summer.
a hushed lull, ever gentle breathing,
propeller of hopes, up, hovering over petals;
a floating kingdom of bones and abstraction.

loneliness is a place for moonlight dwellers:
risk takers, and ambitious,
like waddling feet hanging off a cliff
carry tales and stories and you won't find it.
but baring phantom bruises is a sure pass.

pride, a vertebral thing, essential to my being,
a path i chose.
honor, a glittering sun that i think is vital,
a path not taken, but inherited.
these are the bones that hold me together.

time will eventually catch up to me
only if i don't catch it first.
im always only seconds late,
but misses thousands of frames.
so doubt, after all, is inevitable.

i have to cut my hair shorter,
because i have that choice.
but why can't i paint my face
a nice, warm smile
when im possessive of my choices?

i build these blocks that always tumbles over
every time i get close to making it a reality
it's a winning game, until it isn't, until it is.
sheltered within the waves of procrastinated

Mothers are supposed to love their children unconditionally.
So why doesn’t mine?

Dear mother,

We are your babies for a little while.
Then we grow and explore our independence.
We swear we will never sound like you.
Until...One day we do.
At first it shocks us.
And yes, we will try to push away.
Then we have children.
Again... we repeat what you say.
By that time we realize a thing or two.
Then we understand why you do what you do.
When we reach that conclusion.
Things will have changed.
We will feel sorrow...
We will feel guilt...
We will cherish the blanket,
That you took the time to quilt.
We will not see this coming.
But things will really change.
The ones who call us their babies.
Become our babies in a way.
Our babies are there.
And gone in a day.

The one who brought me down to earth
And held me close every day
The one who gave me birth
And loves me in every way
She taught me everything
Like how to crawl and walk
She guided me to sing
After learning how to talk
She is always  there for me
Just talking to her can make me happy
She tells me of the hard times she's been through
hoping that I won't go through them too
This poem is crafted for you, mom
Because I want this poem to be
My means of showing you
How much you mean to me

You are the most beautiful in and out
I love you to the edge of the universe
You are the one who cares the most
Everyone who are present at home the most
You have the foresight than anyone
because you are loyal to everyone
You are the one who encourages me always
even if I fall always
You are so homely
because you are lovely
I love you mom........forever
because I will be with you forever

dear mother, this is my letter to you.

i would like to start this letter off by saying that i didn’t know who to address it to.
“mother” is a term that i hold dearly,
a term many use simply and with abandon.
thoughtlessly throwing the term around,
bestowing the title upon their friends’ mothers,
like they’re their second family.

for years the term has encumbered me,
chained me to a wall where the shackles have rusted into my wrists.
my arms have gone limp from pulling at them from either trying to get away or trying to get back to you.

my mother.

but lately,
i’ve found that mother is a term of endearment.
a complete bond of trust and love that i’m suppose to feel but haven’t for years.
and lately,

mother,

it’s because you haven’t been a mother.
and maybe...
maybe that sounds dramatic and cold and cruel and just downright unfair.

because you gave birth to me right?

because your idea of love is different but it’s still love, faith and ******* you can’t do this to your sisters do you know what my mother did to me you can take it
but i can’t mother.

mom.

i can’t take it mom.
you’ve taken so much from me.

you’ve stolen my health.

my ability to trust.

my ability to love.

you’ve stolen the compassion from my bones and you’ve robbed me of my childhood and i never got to recklessly throw myself into something that doesn’t matter because it doesn’t matter and i never got to live,

mama

i never got to live.

you’ve already given me guilt,
guilt that i already had.
guilt upon guilt upon guilt upon guilt

and you never stopped to think that this hurts me too?

not even once?

you think i slide through life, laughing because i have another mother who was better than you?
the funny thing is,

mama

is that she is better than you.

and it hurts me even more that she’s better than you.

because you gave birth to me.

you gave me life.

the breath in my lungs.

the heart in my chest and the brain in my head.

yet she’s the one that made it beat and she’s the one that gave me thought and she’s the one that breathes for me when i can’t.
because janda,

janda,

you should’ve done that for me.

not her.

you should’ve done that.

but you didn’t.

so i’m letting you go,
because you didn’t fight to stay.
you didn’t fight to change.
because i’m just like everyone else.

because how can you be my mother when you never treated me like your daughter.

i love you.
and i’ll always love you,
but i can’t love you like this.
not anymore.

sincerely, faith marino.