A Lonely Mother's Day

About my mother and her death.

I know you’re not pretending to sleep
Waiting for breakfast in your bed
I won’t see your tired blue eyes
That only you possess

I know you’re up in heaven
Watching my mistakes
And watching me turn into a woman
That you created

I know you tired your hardest
To be with me always
But God must have needed an angel
Because you were one in so many ways

I used to make little paper flowers in my third grade class
But then one year I had to sit there
And watch the glue dry to the other kid’s flowers
And sat there by myself

A young woman
Dying on the inside
After waking up and hearing
You died on the outside