there’s honey in my eyes but ivy in your own.
my fingers are tired from holding our loose threads together,
maybe some strings are meant to fray away.
mother, i have outgrown the golden child age,
you’re the anxiety in my head and the heaviness in my heart,
the home which feels like it’s on fire.
I’m glad that I don’t have your eyes,
it would be cruel to see the world the way that you do.Recommend0 Simily SnapsPublished in