I treat this like a journal
Perhaps it is
Why can you go so many years
No tears
No murmurs
Simple silence
Like your an automaton filled with gears
You're my blood
You carried me to, all those moons ago, when my mother was in your womb
But I never hear from you
How can someone be
Like they desire to be
Absent and cold, like the expansion of eternity?
Do I mean so little to you?
These wounds are my own
I suppose they're yours too
I'm to old to be grovelling over the lack of love from you
So may this be my reminder to cut my course
And cut my own path
I will not abandon my children, or their children, or their children
One day I hope to laugh at feelings as foolish as this
I hope I am the matriarch for my lineage, and I hope it lasts and lasts
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Journal for Wandering Feet
PoetryPoetry dedicated to where I come from. how I feel being away from home where I've been What I've lived. 🌺please leave me a vote if you like my poems🤙 Please don't post on my content trying to sell me something, send a private email, or asking me...
