Memories of her

I remembered she wouldn't wake up.

Her lips were meshed together in a 

horrible shade of red. 

They burried my mother in a white dress,

and she couldn't see.

Where are your glasses, mommy?

And still sat sixteen i bring them to my face

and peer through the distruted murky lenses, 

to see what saw.

Maybe one day..... 

And I remembered it hitting me

like it does every day

when I hear them all talk, and complain about their "horrible" mothers.

What's it like to have a mother 

I'd give anything to know, or at least for them to know how lucky they are.

And I remembered she wouldn't sit up,

and I dreamed of a stuffing machine because someone whispered by my ear she was 

cut in half and stuffed.

It made no sense, still at sixteen I wondered,

what happened to my mother?

I remembered her faintly, she doesn't even smile anymore in my dreams.

And i wondered if she would ever be proud of me, who i have becomed. 

The things I have seen, the things I have done, and I remembered her singing

rhough I can't hear her voice.

The only happy christmas  I hold on to ever year.

I used to think maybe one day she'll come back...

I remembered she wouldn't wake up 

not even to say good-bye. 

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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