my mother never shoved pieces of fruit into my mouth like all the other mother's did-
she'd never be at my door with a plate of healthy food for my body and water,
she'd never linger in the doorway as I ate it to make sure I was content.
my mother would present a variety of candies to me, everything sugary, sour, salty, savoury, and in between.
she'd hand me a soda or an energy drink or a cup of coffee much too big for someone my size
she'd leave the moment I accepted her peace offerings and refused to hear a complaint or cry
I think it was a sign she was slowly killing me. her offers seemed sweet, but deadly indeed.
