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Memories MAG
And I remember she wouldn’t wake up.
Her lips were mushed together in a
Horrible shade of red
They buried my mother in a white dress
And red lips.
And she couldn’t see.
Where are your glasses, Mommy?
And still at sixteen I bring them to my face
And peer through the distorted murky lenses
To see what she saw
Maybe one day …
And I remember it hitting me
Like it does every day
When I hear them all talk and complain about their
“Horrible” mothers
What’s it like to have a mother
I’d give anything to know,
Or at least for them to know how lucky they are.
They know.
And I remember she wouldn’t sit up
And I dreamed of a stuffing machine because
Someone whispered by my ear she was
Cut in half and stuffed
And it made no sense
And still at sixteen I wonder
What happened to my mother?
And I remember her faintly
She doesn’t even smile in my dreams anymore
And I wonder if she’ll ever be proud of me
If she’d ever approve of me
And who I’ve become
The things I’ve seen
The things I’ve done
And I remember her singing
Though I can’t hear her voice
The only happy Christmas I hold on to
Every year
Maybe one day it’ll come back
I used to think
Maybe one day she’d come back
And still at sixteen I hope
Maybe one day she’ll come back …
And I remember she wouldn’t wake up
Not even to say good-bye.
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If this happened to u which i think it did i am soo sorry! that must be horrible! i want you to know that i will pray for you and your family.
Wow, it seems as though every time I feel strong enough to read the comments left on this piece, I cry and am in awe. Thanks to everyone who commented, I wish I could go through and respond to each and every one but it looks as though it'd take forever. Anyone who'd like me to check out their work and comment though should Facebook me a message with a link and I will =]
Poetry heals the mind and soul
"and in that moment, I swear we were infinate"
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Favorite Quote:
You should not live the way the world asks, but the way that you ask of yourself.