for days i didn't write how i tire of haikus how they plague me with seventeen when i want more syllables to squeeze into a day a life
all those moments, days, weeks, moths, years lost how it feels like loss her hating, ignoring, hiding, wishing to be somewhere else anywhere but here and now she is and the full house is emptier than ever with these smiles that mask the truth the bitter truth and her grin gone her childhood over
and how can i feel anything less than the worst mother to come home to more tears, more accusations, more truth than i can bear?
and i'll soon lose my second (i've already lost her to her friends, her habits, her goth music, her hatred of me) and then she'll be gone too and when i try to look back across monument valley, there will only be smoke.