TW: Graphic descriptions of self harm/suicide/someone dying.
----------
------
--
I die
over and over.
I used to think I wanted to.
I used to flirt with death using the same razors
mama used to shave calluses from her
hard working heels
but now I know better
when walking feels like
dry heaving my broken insides
when it feels like vomiting
the pieces of me
of her
that have loosened in me
since she left
pieces trying to force themselves out of my body
but I hang onto them
no matter how sharp
and I die
from doing this.
I die when I remember her face
turn blue
I die when I can feel how soft her hand was in mine
in my mind and
I realize
I can never feel it again.
I die.
~ Written June 2018
YOU ARE READING
A votive that has un-mothered
PoetryA collection of grief poems from losing my mother to cancer. I may or may not keep this up here. I doubt there's any audience for this kind of thing on this site. Trigger warning. Lots of raw imagery in these poems. You can follow Rachel's work on...
