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.