I am here
With my mother now
This is the fifth time she has cried today
Fiftieth time this week.
Thousandth time in the
Two months since the accident.
She is so unlike herself
Face pale and clear of her usual
Bright eye shadow
And pastel pink lipstick.
Her forest green eyes
Glossed over
Looking lifeless
Like mine did that day.
I watch as Aunt Maggie
Tried so hard to console her
But Maggie was never good at that kind of thing
She ended up in tears with her.
Each drop that hit the hardwood
Felt like a knife in my translucent skin
My fault.
I hurt her.
Her child was a screw up.
I will never get a chance to do
All the things she wanted for me
Things she couldn't do
Because she was a mother too young.
I was supposed to be the one
Consoling her
About her latest boyfriend failure
Not this.
I was supposed to be laying with her
On our old muddy brown couch
Smiling widely as I talked about you.
Not this.
Not this.
Not this.
Why?
