Momma's lips kiss cigarettes more often than my forehead at night.
She perks up at the sound of Jack sloshing in the bottle, but not at the sound of my name.
Her hands caress the bodies of countless men with a delicacy that I have yet to know.
Not that I mind- I know she loves me.
Momma puts me to bed with screams of drunken rage rather than fairy tales.
Who needs Cinderella anyway?
Sometimes, though, I wish she'd call me her own little princess.
Not that I mind- I know she loves me.
Momma tells me there are skeletons in her closet, but she never checks in mine.
I had another nightmare, but it's no use waking her.
She's too busy battling her own demons to fight off my monsters.
I know she loves me.
Momma forgot to cook my dinner.
She was too busy feeding her addictions
to remember that sleep was impossible on an empty stomach.
She loves me...
Momma struck me today.
I dumped a bottle of liquor down the drain.
She sobbed as she cradled the empty glass.
Momma didn't recognize me this morning.
She babbled and shook with anxiety,
begging me to leave.
Momma didn't wake up today.
I found her in the bathtub.
It almost looked like she were sleeping.
I went to visit her today.
I placed a flower on her grave and whispered, "It's okay, Momma,"
"I know you loved me."
YOU ARE READING
A Cage Left Open
PoetryThis collection of short stories and poetry focus on themes such as love, loss, heartache, and depression. Most of the works are fictional, though some are personal narratives. They have been written as a way to navigate myself through the darkest p...
