Loving a Living Ghost

Dear mama, oh dear mother. I learned to whisper when the house went quiet

at night. Your love came with weather on it, sometimes warm,

sometimes locked tight. I grew up reading the room like scripture, trying not to

say the wrong thing loud. I learned early how to disappear and still make

you proud. Dear mama, I loved you silent when loving me was too

hard for you to do. I carried you without saying your name like daughters

sometimes do. You're still breathing, I know you are, but something already

went cold. It's hard to love someone living who decided that you were dead