It's been awhile since you've called
Why don't you want me?
Am i the constant reminder of something you did?
Am i the stench of the yellowing papers
That finalized the end of your first love?
Your words are the prickling ink
From the feathered feminine pen
That signed the final line saying
I definitely do not love you anymore.
And what for?
To prove he was a bad man?
Or to prove how crazy i really was?
Is it crazy to love him?
To love him more, because he practically raised me?
Dearest mother,
I was not your baby.
I was your mistake.
And as you squished the candles on the cake
With a firm fist and a firing lighter
you wished me away.
on every one of my birthdays.
Because i was the burden.
Burden.
By definition, a heavy load
By metaphore
A girl who just wanted her mommy to say
Hi honey, how was your day?
Are you okay?
But my room is dark
And the lights are dim
And the place is so gloomy and cold and grim
Because you refuse to kiss me goodnight again
Because it reminds you of how lovely his lips tasted
And it reminded you how the chilled metal ring
Wrapped so sweetly against your meticulously manicured finger.
~vivi
