m.j.s_world

I exist as an interminable wave of everything and everyone I’ve ever known.

I ebb and flow through the motions of life;

Of loving,

Of losing,

Of acceptance.

“Honestly, she had better come around, but it isn’t her fault. She isn’t emotionally stable.”

After everything, this is what you told them.

Your head spills over with muted indignation. 

Indignation from things I don’t--

I can’t know.

Because I can’t hear anything 

Mama, love me as a mother would.

Nurture me gently as the deer does her fawn.

Shield me honestly as the raven does her chicks.

Existing in ethereal mourning

far longer than we should have.

To wallow in the reliability of grief,

To seek comfort in its patterned trail,