she was— she is— she will
forever be my everything.
wounded among words and
bleeding edges of satin clothes
the ones that my father refused
to make her wear— yet god was
good as he wrung out liquid
from her eyes. until her eyes
were dry and we got a glimpse
into her beautiful brain. my mama
has the prettiest mind filled with
primed roses and broken
dinner plates mixed with salty
tears and a bedside glowing
shade.
YOU ARE READING
GROWING THORNS & DUST.
Poetry[ POETRY - SHORT POEMS - AN ANTHOLOGY ] WARNING: CONTAINS USAGE OF NOSTALGIC & TRIGGERED MANIA- A LIFE LIVED AND LOVED UNDER BLEEDING GUMS. photo cr: hollis brown thornton on flickr #4 in poetrycollection [28-11-2021]