When my mother laughed, it was from a slightly pained place

When she gave advices, it was from her previous mistakes

When she’d caress my hair she’d be so gentle

Not moving hairs, but wrapping them in love

As she’d caress in me only the bits that I had borrowed from herself

‘Now please let me rest, she’d say, after roughly an hour’

Of being together, returning wholly to the silent movie space of her room 

For which my outer world technicolor energy

Would be so overwhelming

image @ unsplash

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