Mother, pt.1

details of my life
are connected
by strands of hair
in my sons fingertips

lastly, I will say nothing
time travels across
the ever expanding universe
a stopwatch never put in place
mind splitting numbness
wrist wringing tears
blood
slips downwards
thick
cherry droplets

I am my mothers daughter, but what will
it mean in the
end?
her voice in my head
her laughter dries up and blows away
into her body
ashen,
dusty
even before death

I am my mothers daughter
will that mean plaque ridden arteial damage
as my grey matter
clings to life
by threads
so I can search for meaning and know absolutely nothing
from one
second until
the next?

I am my mothers daughter,
but what good is that to me
if she is
already dead?

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