ACT 1 I’m standing in front of your mom, fingers Twitching at her sides, blindly grasping at your Silhouette Stamped onto a silver chain, Glistening obnoxiously on a hollowed chest // empty // stained // suffocated She isn’t fixable. ACT 2 Collar bones protrude as she bends forward Committing herself wholly to eating a slice of Cake. (She’s been put back together by a 3 year old | projects her anger into nurturing | care- taking But he doesn’t understand. And maybe deep down she hates him for not Missing you More.) ACT 3 She’s comfortable being worse. She’s comfortable not eating | leading support groups But what am I to say? : if skipping meals and teaching Orphaned parents the task of essential deception is her way of honoring you, fine. She isn’t fixable. But you could have been. ACT 4 I’m expecting another phone call. Or a Facebook upload : a sunflower tramp stamp. Everyone grieves in their own way But please God, Let it be the tattoo.
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