[ Mom ]

So tired of waiting for instructions
from you–
that tell me all the things you know and do.
I’m sick of trying to get through to your
absent-minded way of life.
Behind your lips lie words left to decay and
turn with the colours of the leaves that fall from the desolate
trees this winter.
Your eyes are not the same eyes
that looked into mine
on that summer evening—
Amid the
twilight and sunset—
when the time was just right
and every thing had its place
a breathless sight to witness.
this moment
where life bends and doesn’t break
its elasticity is so hard to snap.
I came to life,
bundled and safe,
in your arms.
Now I grow and you grow
and time congests the space between our separate worlds
that we each have built around us.
A fortress of uncertainty and guilt
and my heart is empty, but still has no room for you.
So go ahead…
light another cigarette and try to make believe that life is as it should be.
And this is what we have left
as I look at the picture of us taken
during that time in our lives when phrases and smiles
were liberated and untainted.
I’m scared to say that
the only happiness we have left
remains in a 3×5 frame.

[ 9.13 PM ]