If I could write a book about my mother, I wonder what I'd name it. Love through Bloody Hands or Kill me but not so softly. It would be funny to not talk about her and the color red in the same sentences. Cause for sure she'd be the first woman to show me what fury looks like on a child's face when they have nothing but their own skin left for themselves. She'd be the one to make me look at love with bloody eyes, because everything that is desirable is also a sickening feeling that will soon be dead. If I had to portray my mother in poetry, she would be bleeding there too. With carved smiles that never left the mouths and skin so thin and soft that feels too cold to be alive. What's it like to have a mother, you ask? And I keep screaming through my wide eyes how they never define it in books, they tell you that it must feel lucky to have one but no one speaks upon how at times having one also feels like nothing but a wisp of air that barely touched you but is still felt, doesn't it? If I'd to write a book about my mother, that would be the one place she could always be the main character and not on the sidelines, she would know how to love without killing them twice cause once didn't feel enough and maybe she'll always have a choice to leave when she'd wanted to, cause I probably would too. True, love is never what you imagine it would be. It comes in like a hurricane least expected and all one can do is watch how it's like to be taken in transit without a flight. A Red Eye That Said, "I Love You." Would you sink your faith in such a book?
Here's what the poet has to confess:
"If you still chose to stay, this book is crafted just for you. I feel too intensely, judge myself from the perspectives of others (which my boyfriend keeps reminding about every time I cry and complain) and eat ice-cream for dinner. It's a vulnerable act, inviting you to sift through the poems born from my lowest ebbs, to experience the depths of my emotions through each line. I trust you with this journey. Will you stay by my side until we uncover the perfect conclusion? Should I falter, you'll know, as the book will remain an untold tale, a path untraced.
Whether you choose to stand at the threshold or make yourself at home within these verses, I offer you space to feel understood amidst these pages.
Love you,
The poet."
YOU ARE READING
A Red Eye That Said, "I Love You."
PoetryIf I'd to write a book about my mother, that would be the one place she could always be the main character and not on the sidelines, she would know how to love without killing them twice cause once didn't feel enough and maybe she'll always have a c...
