A woman who leaves her children isn’t a mother but a donor,
   egg loaner.

She walked away from us, no longer mother,
  or friend.
     or other.

She never wanted us. Not me, not my brother.
And,
    to be honest,

if I saw her today walking next to a stranger.

I wouldn’t tell one from the other.

I want you.
I want to sit with you, in an apartment that's ours.
I want to buy furniture with you.

I want to eat Indian food with you,
and watch stupid sitcoms that are on tv with you.

I want to adopt a cat with you.
I want to read books while holding hands with you.

I want to cuddle with you for hours when it's raining outside.
Hell, I want to get caught in that rain with you.

I want to dance to my Frank Sinatra record collection.
I want it to be our collection.

I want to drive, really really far with you.
Like, really far.
I want to spend that much time in a confined space with you.

I want to run to Waffle House with you at three in the morning when we're high.
So, I want to get high with you.

I want to come home, to our home, and just be with you.
I want to sit down and file tax returns with you.

But, more than anything,
I want you to be happy.

So, if that means
you want nothing to do with me, then
I want you to forget me.

If you don't want to see me again,
I want to disappear.

If you want to run away from me, like I'm a problem,
I want to run in the opposite direction.

But, if one day,
you want me in return,
I'll be there.
You're all I've ever wanted,
and all I ever will want.

O, to live in the absence of time
when days are not days, but moments
always begun, never at end
unplanned, uncharted
and remembered

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.