my mother feeds the sadness

I am always told I do not resemble my mother, but I would if they asked the right questions. If they would, they would know we are the very same, identical, only on the inside.

Where do you get your selflessness? My mother. And where do you get your greed? My mother, as well. We are both hungry for things we don’t have, things out of reach, ways of living we will never know. We make the most out of the suffering we have, though. And we always will.

Where do you get your heart and the ache that goes with it? My mother must’ve pried hers apart and into two, given half to me when I tore my way into the world. Why should she be the only one to feel the ache, after all? I’ve never known a life without it.

Who helps feed the sadness living inside you, and who unleashes it? My mother’s hands planted the seed and they pluck it out from time to time, a hobby in mind, just to ensure my tear ducts still work.

Do you know who gave you the fire in your belly? She gave me that, too. Sometimes, the flames grow so heavy and I have no right mind to deal with them, that they eat right through my flesh, right into sight. No such wound can be easily stitched back into place.

I wonder if she knows I’m just like her, if she’s happy with her craft. A project she’s been mending together for twenty odd years now, so she can sit back and watch it. I wonder if she’s happy with the melancholy in my eyes, how it mirrors the ones she owns. I wonder if she is aware I will wither over time, just like she has.

I wonder if she cares.

May Garner is a young writer and poet based in Ohio. She has been crafting and sharing her work online for over a decade, beginning on Wattpad and expanding to various platforms. Her debut poetry collection, Withered Rising, was published in 2023 and is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Her poetry has also been featured in six anthologies, including the recent Musing Around at Midnight by Cozy Ink Press. You can find more of her work on her Instagram (@crimson.hands).