Mother’s Voice

I drag

the weight of a 1,000 missed moments

and empty lunch boxes

of forgotten tear drops

a river under my bed

The dust ruffles are still wet, I think.

My back crumbles

from the burden

of shredded candy wrappers

in the right corner of my cupboard

under the stained yellow shirt

and unsigned test papers.

The camera you threw still weeps on the ground

near the glasses that were once whole

I’ve been blind ever since.

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to fill out a check”

you stole the last shred of evidence

squashed it under a boot stomp

of silence.

silent floorboards

silent walls

silent pillow cases

silent neighbors

a broomstick clangs.

F**** You

Today I drown

in the footsteps and echoes of

the dirty path you made

and the monster

you created.

She’s me.

I’m in the clutches

of your voice

or is it mine?

I can’t tell us apart anymore.

Always in my peripheral vision

I still prove myself to your ghost

But it’s never enough.

I was never enough for you

and I’ll never be enough

for me.