For Mother

Mother. You who took my seed and fed it with your essence,

Showered me until I bloomed.

You who I reached for through the dark nights of my adolescence.

You would hold my hand as I slept,

My mattress pressed next to your own.

Reassurance in that flame I kept.

When that hand ceased to exist from mine, pain of a sudden stabbing,

Left to stumble around the manic darkness,

Arms outstretched, hands grabbing.

Time did not treat me kindly there,

Neither I to you.

Your teeth grew sparse, and I gained a smile for which I did not care.

Now I realise it was not you who let my hand drop,

But me who snatched mine from yours,

Me who sewed my eyes shut to put all seeing of you to a stop.

Long since dining at darknesses dinner table,

My steps now flow with the falling.

I am steadily unstable.

But I know if I were to feel the warmth of your hand

The desperation would send me spiralling down.

Fed with your blood, fed with your love,

In frozen suspense without your sustenance.

I take the seam ripper and gouge my eyes,

For I fear the mess I’ve made of you.

Blood drips where tears cannot.

Mum. How I wish you would hold me again.