𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒹ℯ𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓉ℯ，𝒷𝒾𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇，𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉ℯ𝒶𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 （𝒶 𝒸ℴ𝓁𝓁ℯ𝒸𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃 ℴ𝒻 𝓅ℴℯ𝓉𝓇𝓎)

𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔ℯ𝓉 𝒷ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇．

the therapists
the doctors
the counselors
the same words slipped from their lips
"it will get better."
i'm no professional
although i will confess
losing your mother never gets better
the woman who gave birth to you
held you first
she blessed you with divine femininity that no other will dare to grasp
when i got that call
i collapsed
let out the deepest darkest screech my lungs could carry
no scary film can amount to the horror my voice projected that day
my skin is stained with the tears of grief forevermore
i will miss the melody that carried through our home when she spoke
the scent her perfume intoxicated beautifully when she entered a room
it doesn't get better
the hurt will heal
but a child will always miss their mother
no matter how much healing you partake.