My mother told me
What goes up ; must come down.
&my feet were floating off the ground
But my heart was falling for you
&my arms were longing for you.
(Notice how I use past tense, babe?)
Does it hurt as bad as I'd hoped?
Do I need to scream at the top of my blackened lungs?
(Until you lose your labyrinthine sense)
"Mr. Honest Abe."

My mother told me
What goes 'round ; comes 'round.
&you promised me an ivory gown
But you forestalled me
&you cobbled me.
(Did you like my notion of future perfect tense, love?)
Will you screech tears into the maroon & starless night?
(Until you die with the last vision of him by my side?)
Because you're not worthy of me, babe.
&I can't wait to see your last day.

My mother told me

To pick the very best one

And you




After all this time I am still
angry, hurt, stunned, and s.h.o.c.k.e.d
at how you treated me.
But, most of all
I am
at myself
for not listening
to the woman who
knew me best.

My Mother.