I always thought you looked good in black velvet, Mom
I'm just sorry this is the way you have to wear it
I remember the lace collar from one of our various thrift shop expeditions
You loved it, but only had the courage to try it on. Here's your event
And while I'm standing by your side, holding your hand
I don't think you understand
I don't think you feel me, or hear me calling your name
I know know, the unbearable weight of blame
Iridescent shame
Mourners stare at me, your fault your fault your fault!
I can't exactly argue, I can't tell them my thoughts
I didn't mean to hurt anyone, or force out a good-bye
Mom, I never wanted to make you cry
I hope this letter finds you well
Yes Mom, I think you look stunning in black velvet and frayed lace
Unfortunately, your tears are out of place
I know you were saving them for my wedding, but this may be the only celebration of my life we get. I'm sorry you had to wear your pearls for my funeral
-Willow
YOU ARE READING
Please, Disregard
PoetryAn untold story from a misplaced generation, this is teen angst at its finest. These the writings of The Suicide Notebook, or how I'd imagine them to be. It's mostly going to be in poetry form, slam or rhyming. Keep in mind that slam poetry sounds a...
