fragments of us; a collection of poems

1

i dream of her
gentle,
a guiding hand,
a soft touch that helps me understand
i dream of her
& her laughter is like a warm,
sweet song,
maybe this is her
in a world where i don't belong.
mom, who were you before me?

-

i see her anger towards me
i see it in her distant haze,
to her, i'm a mirror of my father's ways
her eyes are clouds
her words are sparse
each glance a bitter, fleeting spark
i wear his traits, his touch, his anger, his name
why do i have to hold all the blame.
i am not my father.