misinterpretingann
Mother's embrace.
Warm, inviting.
Home.
Mother's disgrace.
Dead, hopeless.
Gone.
i am dry, but no moisture will pass my lips.
i am worn, but no patchwork will have it's way with me.
i am broken, but not to be fixed.
i am earth, dust, ashes.
i can't believe you.
i can't.
i won't.
and even as you sit across from me, looking lost, looking sad, i will not believe it.
looks aren't everything.
i am curious about your smile. your smirk, rather. i don't know if it's the way the light was hitting your eyes, or the smell of rotten milk, but i could have sworn there was something evil forming on the corner of those lips.
i have never forgotten your smell or how cold your hands always were because of the drugs. i have never forgotten your kindness, or how you couldn't see anyone's pain but your own. i haven't forgotten the way you looked that day when your mom was gone and you left the bed to answer the phone for Johnathan. I have never forgotten. But Christ, I wish I could.
i lived in a trailer for the last three years of my life. i never expected to leave. hell, i didn't really want to. i had a system there, i was comfortable. but that's how opportunity is i guess. never comes quite when you want or expect it.