eight months ago,
i met his mother.
tall, beautiful woman,
picture perfect smile.
but the frame cracked when she saw me.when i left,
she was the last one i saw.
she looked more broken than ever in the moonlight
and eerie shadows of any another hopeless night.
i could have sworn i had heard her whisper into the air behind me,
"i'm so sorry."
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flowers
Poetrya memory in poems. [copyright 2019 © neutralfleur] completed: Nov, 2016.