She was a Wire Mother
but i didn't have a cloth mother
no comfort to choose
when you say i'm not
disgusting
stinky
cruel
unlovable
gross
or hug me with a melting warmth
or say i can always have a hug if i want one
the old numb stories of a wire mother and a methed up dad
come to life
because the icicles built around
those memories keeps them frozen
in the space of weird anecdote
but it's so hard not to cry when your warmth melts the ice
but if i do you might empathise
you might feel like i do
but i never want to hurt you
no one should ever have to
feel like i do
i don't want to hurt you
i'm ok. just go
i'll see you tomorrow