dear mother,

you aren’t fooled by my antics. you know what goes on during long weekends and late nights, what lurks in the back of my mind, and what i really want. you know what of me is a charade and what is real. you understand the childlike desire that skulks beyond the underpinnings of skin and blood and tendon and bone, the etching on the inside of my eyelids, and the way my arteries interweave. you know when to say “yes” when you really mean “no” and you know when to say “no” when you really mean “yes, but please don’t.”

for that, i love you, mama, more than you know.

2 years ago  /  1 note