there was once a mother and a girl.
and trust.
my mother turned to me and asked
“where my little girl gone?”
as if she didn’t steal every part of
that girl and throw her away.
as if she didn’t weaponize my trust
in her against me and use those
bullets to strike her down.
“you’re so cold and distant now.”
because i shiver without the heart
you decided to shoot straight through.
i am cold without the blood you split
across the wooden floor.
because she is nothing but bones
and teeth that once shaped a smile.
because you killed her and expected
her to remain warm.
