surface tension

i. plume june skies turn crisp and white.

autumn air — the september mist has it hazed.

clouded eyes, blinking back tears.

salty water stings the wound.

mama wanted it to be her sweet girl.

a ray of sunlight to brighten up her life.

midday sleepy naps and mellow cafe letters.

and she calls me that — even now.

she got me instead. a new life form, a never ending spiral.

who thought a seed would bloom into this disaster?

the mess is mine, her moonlit back rubs drown out the cries.

ii. if only i could break the tension of the surface.

am i going under? did she even notice?

her sunlight extends just above the surface.

mama holds the towel, ‘it’s time to get out’.

yearning to speak. the voice inside is loud.

but the words dissolve, like salt in the sea.

mama hugs me with the towel, as if she knows.

her light is too fragile for this shadow.

iii. festival season – celebrations and love.

the party doesn’t love us.

i am silenced by the crowd.

is this a good time to let it all out?

laughter tinkles like glittering champagne.

mama’s daughter, loved but gone, unnoticed.

my thoughts drown in the sea of them all.

the tide in my eyes, unnoticed and swept away.