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marianne Nov 2018
Under a smokey sky
her kind air, and steady gaze
put a firm hand on my chest
and pushed

just hard enough to take my breath away

I am standing here still
at some distance, steadying myself, mindful
that my next step in any direction, will determine
how we walk forward
mother and daughter

Like an ee poem
where nothing-but-yourself blazes
and a single word can command a whole line, limitless
she is demanding space
to fill up as she pleases

I will step back
as she moves forward
tease us apart carefully, and wait, circling
the slippery outer edge
of infinity
Jess Rogers Nov 2018
She is calling for me,
She is calling for me,
The mother I wish I could be,
Her anger at the bar of her crib,
I should get up,
I need to get up,
She is calling me,
What day is it?
What day of the week?
I can’t remember,
I am so tired,
The cry’s,
She always cries,
Am I not good enough?
They say I have the baby blues,
Losing my mind is a funny thing,
I was so smart and ready,
I will get up,
I must get up,
Telling myself “I will try to be a better mom tomorrow”...
Haylin Nov 2018
If you think it's tough being a firefighter,
try being a firefighter's wife.

And if you think it's hard being a firefighter's wife,
try being a firefighters daughter
My dad is a firefighter. I used to sit at the door waiting for him. I always made sure he came home. I would not sleep till I knew he was safe
Kyra Oct 2018
My mother once said to my sister and me,

with tears in her eyes,

never love a man trying to fix him.

What we kept was

never love a man.
~k.hem
Maria Monte Oct 2018
I am 6,
My mother does not
Tell me about real life
I had to put up a real fight
I am left to learn on my own
She barely notices how much I’ve grown

I am 13,
My mother does not
Hug me when I am celebrated
All my smiles feel fabricated
The school board tells me I am good
My mother can only look at her bank book

I am 18,
My mother does not
Take me to the hospital
My life drains fast little by little
She looks at me with contempt
As I gasp for air, failing attempts
She says she feels like an ATM
As she spits money in the midst of the mayhem

I am 25,
My mother does not
See the bruises she’s left
On my beating chest
When she tells me she does not feel like a mother
When I am around her
And I have to swallow the poison in my throat,
that spits "I've been trying to stay afloat"
You can't complain about never feeling like a mother when you've never acted like one.
Heather Ann Oct 2018
a river flows in both of us
with the same thrum of an erratic heartbeat,
steady hands that secretly shake
and heavy eyelids that feel like weights.
we grew up on the shelf--
decorum for the dollhouse
of broken dreams.
born and raised
we rise and fall
like balloons,
but we don't always get to reach the stars.
we kneel,
not in submission,
or for prayer,
but to remember where we come from
and where we'll go back to.
we crack and twist like dead trees
leaning from the weight.
diamonds, hiding,
in wait.
we are perennials--
we blossom and die;
forgetting we come alive again.
but when the sun has set and we lose our breath
we shiver amongst the silence,
only landmarks not found yet
cait-cait Oct 2018
i.

i told my mother the other day that i
have decided to be kind,
to love those
who love me (for no good reason)....

and because of, i want to take you in my arms
and hold you so tight
that the world cannot get in.
.

ii.

you are dressed in white, like
an angel, and
when you sleep, you murmur and
when
i watch, you smile
instead of howling, and i wish

that you were that peaceful when
awake.

iii.

you are growing up, and i
watch the way you forsake your mother
and i watch the way
you puff up your chest with lies and then
cower when you see me ....

you are not innocent anymore, and i cannot
hold you to as such when
you hide behind a hood of your parents
protection.

iv.

your brother does not love me anymore,
and frankly, i do not care.

but you cannot see the stab wound, so
still, i am angry.

v.

i don’t think she loves her best friend anymore,
i don’t think she even loves me.

but how can you tell someone to cut a
piece of themselves off when
you won’t do it for them?

when you don’t even have the right.

vi.

i read a poem today, it was about war
and it was about foxes,
and
i thought of you again...
my fox,

you are a violence...
and a lover.

and when i remember how you cut me,
i remember why i have to cherish what i have.
this year, i met a girl who i didnt really like (for no reason), and the other day she overheard me telling my friend that i felt like everyone hated me. she looked at me and said "i like you." and i decided that i always need to appreciate the friends i have even if it feels like i dont have them.
luv Oct 2018
you were my safety

your whirlpool eyes
forever pulling me
back in

your ******* always wet
with my tears

your hands always
in my hair
twirling braids and
pinning barrettes

you arms always
draped around my
shoulders,
absorbing all the hurt.
my only solace
in a lifetime of darkness,
the only one
i'd allow my heart to love
in all it's fragileness,
the body that birthed me

it is only fitting
that you would be
the final break before
the shatter
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