(no subject)
Restricted number... should have known it would be her voice on the phone. I've covered a lot of distance between there and here without going anywhere. Every time she solidifies in my reality, I find myself right back at the beginning. Standing in the shower of her icy stare. Those brown eyes used to hold such warmth, they were my mothers eyes. The eyes that used to sit so perfectly placed in my mothers face.
I remember a time when her her voice was my perfect melody. Now It's the sound of locked doors slamming shut, leaving you out in the cold. It's the embalmed and painted body of your grandmother being laid down for her final rest.
The duality of that sound is my undoing and redoing.
I can not hate my mother, my mother isn't here to hate.
I remember a time when her her voice was my perfect melody. Now It's the sound of locked doors slamming shut, leaving you out in the cold. It's the embalmed and painted body of your grandmother being laid down for her final rest.
The duality of that sound is my undoing and redoing.
I can not hate my mother, my mother isn't here to hate.