dogeeseseegod

My mother taught me to fill up on rage till it spilt over my back as cinnamon rolls. I always wondered how I could hold onto forgiveness with fat fingers. When I saw her in my reflection I took broken shards of the mirror and sliced the love handles. Hoping to see myself. But blood holds memory so I remember every lesson still until I let my tired skin rest from the wounds and learn to move in a body I ran away from all my life.