on the days my mother wakes up sad / she tucks this despair / into the pocket of her jeans / and makes bacon for breakfast / kissing my forehead tenderly / because she has taught herself / how to co exist with her sadness / and like how she raised me / she takes this sadness / and loves it like the world / has no end / she loves her sad / until there is nothing left to love / and then / she loves her happy.

you used to tell me stories / when i was crying / you’d tell me how the moon lost it’s color / and how the stars fell in grief / and when i grew older / we would sit on the sofa / as you curled my hair / talking softly about bigger things / because i was a bigger / and i liked listening to you / i always had / so maybe that is why / it took me years to notice / how your hair had lost it’s own color / and this time / i was the one who fell in grief / calling out stories / to an empty room / saying “come back ” / “i wasn’t ready for us to be a story yet.” / i wasn’t ready for you to go