Your kisses are as hollow as the crack pipe you left me for
They sting like blossoming cold sores I hope no one will ever notice
They’re hollow and demanding like the elephant in the room

Those three words shouldn’t even exist in your vocabulary
They are what insult is to injury and a bottle of Jose Cuervo is to pain
As a child I tried to wrap myself in them
Like a blanket that was too small
I struggled to make the ends meet like you never did

It took me a long time to realize that every time you spoke those words you warped my vision of love like shattered lenses
And how the only thing that’s ever existed between us is space
A space where black holes shine like the sun

But I will never tell you any of this
I’ll never tell you how when I got home I stood in the mirror trying to rub your kisses off my face like it was the day after Halloween
I’ll never tell you how I spent days preparing for today
Only to arrive to a party with no food, no booze and no music
Just a bunch of people in costume trying to pretend to be someone else


part one can be found here

Labels: crack addiction, deadbeat mother, mom, mother, trauma