𓂃𑁍 ࣪˖ › ﹙:bug like an angel: ᵎ🪽 ─┈ ✦ʾ ִֶָ𖧧.
❛ the sweeping arm of the morning lost
in the quiet. i build a home with you out
of breath & body. a cathedral of growth
planted where the river divides.❜ :🌷:
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₊˚🗝️₊ ⊹ �...
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w. neglect.
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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.• mama always said that life couldn't possibly gift you lemons and expect you to make lemonade. nothing is for free in this world and if gifted something always have something to pay it forward. times like this I wished I collected everything I could give and handed them to my parents so they would like me. give them the lemons and the lemonade and not assume they would use them to pour into the mouth the bruised and hurt til it bled. the cuts that separated the folds of the dry lips that begged for a coat of chapstick. the comfort of moisture deep within the surface of the skin.
mama I wish you could do the same. give the love a mother should. I cry silently in the flesh of my body but you still kiss papa on the cheek making him breakfast as I lay bleeding your blood out from under my chest. I don't get angry anymore, I am simply saddened by the life the universe so mildly selected for me. mama, would you choose me if I was the only one in the room? I would.
