Mom, if I'm going to be honest,
I think we have a relationship filled
With so many rocks, and cracks,
And various other sharp objects,
That sometimes I feel
I must tiptoe around you with caution.
And Mom, if I am to speak the truth,
I must say,
I often find great distaste in being compared to you;
I can't help but cringe
At the thought
Of only ever being known
As your daughter.
But, Mom, when I read that letter,
My perspective changed;
Suddenly I was seeing me through your eyes,
And unbelievably,
I liked what I saw,
Because you liked who you saw
Me to be.
Oh, Mom,
Would it make sense if I said
That it would be
Wonderfully awful,
And yet,
Awfully wonderful,
To be addressed as your daughter?
Because, Mom,
I remember reading that letter,
And I remember my eyes filling to their brim
With tears,
And the words becoming blurry,
As my heart seemed to leap out of my chest.
And I recall, Mom,
With as much happiness
As has ever filled a
Living,
Breathing,
Feeling being,
How your last words
Of that note
Affect me in only the best of ways.
Every.
Single.
Day.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
And guess what?
I love you.
YOU ARE READING
Life As I See It
PoetryI don't know much about life, I'm pretty young and very confused, So I don't have any answers To the questions you no doubt have; I don't know anyone who does. I'm only writing to feel, And only writing because I feel. So read if you feel too, Becau...
