poetry.
Truth
Heather Christine Mangone
She smiles when she greets me,
Not knowing I know the truth.
With a feared uneasiness she grabs me
Embracing who she thinks I am,
Who I am not anymore.
The atmosphere is heavy and cold,
Weighing down our light conversations.
But she is unaware of the anger I feel.
I conceal it, in hopes is will disperse,
Knowing all too well, you cannot hide from truth.
A kiss goodbye never felt so sharp,
Stabbing swords into my already wounded heart
“I love you and I am so proud,” she says
To this person I used to be,
The person who I am not, anymore.
Mother
Heather Christine Mangone
Mother, can I ever express
My gratitude for your warmth?
You picked up the pieces of my
Broken mind, gluing me back to health.
For this I am ever grateful
For your love has helped me through.
Mother, we all make mistakes
You are merely human, after all.
Yet I have held you up
On the highest of pedestals,
Only to witness it burn
To the ground in a fiery lust.
Mother, you gave me life
And you kept me living
Through all the pain and strife.
But for tearing my heart
And the heart of our family apart
I can’t be sure I’ll ever forgive.