i wonder if i'll always be a sad little thing.
i switch all the lights around me tonight, inviting darkness into my chest like an old friend.
take me away..sing me your mother's lullaby (the one you can barely remember)
i want to hear the stutters in your voice, the constant drops of uncertainty as you delve deep into your memories
love and death, they're one in the same aren't they?
perhaps it will always dwindle, linger on the back of our minds — even when we are happy, especially when we're happy
he says i'm the most nostalgic person he knows,
i wonder if he knows he is one too..
so hold me dear, hold me
because we are one in the same
we are one.
and there you go, you little thing
i'd say the same for my future daughters
i would understand if they are angry, angry at me
because to be a daughter is to always be angry
and to be a mother is to always be sad.
i'm sorry i sigh, i ignore you.
i really do miss my mother's embrace. her lullaby, (the one i can only remember) singing me into darkness.
when did i start to feel unsafe around her?
to be a daughter is to be angry.
to be a mother is to be sad.
and to be me, is to be both.
YOU ARE READING
for me,
Puisifor the very life God has brought upon me, for the happiness, the grief, the resentment and the anger in me, for being human; for being love.
