Dear Mom

p.s. This wasn’t supposed to sound like a love letter.

We haven’t spoken in days.

I can’t say that I don’t miss you.

But I just can’t bring myself to tell you.

I still see you everyday.

You’re still beautiful.

I’m still useless.

Sincerely me.

I am useless.

I am the empty coffee mug in our cabinet.

The one with a chipped handle.

The one you thought was better off thrown out.

I use it, to fill with my own warmth.

I don’t want this to sound like a love letter.

But I’ve never felt so empty.

We both know that we don’t need it,

And I know that I can’t let you throw it out.

It’s the only thing I have left of us to hold.

It’s been so long since we’ve spoken.

Your voice is vaguely familiar to me now.

I might as well be deaf.

I’ve let my muscle memory punch my ear drums

Until all I could hear was ringing.

Disappointment, because I know you still don’t want to call.

It’s been so long since we’ve spoken,

And I swear,

I swear that I don’t want this to sound like a love letter.

I still remember everything from the last time I felt home.

I swear, that I don’t want this to sound like a love letter.

The dark that night was darker than any wide open crevice, I’ve ever seen.

I mistook our shouting for the same thunder that drummed background music to the hyenas that ate at your soul.

You left me crawling.

Left me crawling five feet behind you on the same path you walked.

I still let my muscle memory drag me towards you.

Even though I’m permanently bruised.

You taught me to love until my spine chips under pressure.

Because bruises blend in so well with the dark from that night.

I will never let my muscle memory forget how the pain feels.

It’s the only thing I have left of us to hold.

I don’t want this to sound like a love letter.

I am the Moon that I always needed you to be.

Surrounded myself with silvery lights.

They made me feel beautiful.

Something that I could only imagine feeling with you.

I won’t take the credit anymore.

I don’t need it.

Death beat beauty into me.

Until I could only wish to bleed a little prettier.

It’s all red to me now,

But I don’t want this to sound like a love letter.

You

are the sun, you’ve always been the sun.

I don’t remember a day when you stopped giving me life.

But I do remember when you got too red to stare at.

I trained my muscle memory to look past you,

With a straight face so that you won’t ever forget what I look like,

I’m sorry.

I don’t want this to sound like a love letter.

I just want you to know that you’re killing me.

You chipped away at my spine the way the hyenas ate away at your soul

I cant handle lying to myself

I miss you but I’ve never felt so dead.

I don’t want this to sound like a love letter

But my muscle memory has never felt so much like home

I’ve been holding you, weightless, and I’ve been getting so exhausted.

You drained the life out of me.

Dear mom,

I didn’t want this to sound like a love letter.

Because I know your muscle memory already forgot how to love me

I just want this to hit you as hard as your meteor words hit me.