She is the lost key to a tomb of affections,
Longing to retain her memory of presence.
Would have rather replaced all my prior injections,
That altered her countenance of my existence.

That which keeps us both spiritually apart,
The grave we all must lay in at the end of days.
Born into the fading of her expression of love since the start.
Sensiblity suggests to meditate upon lingering scars.

Under exposure to exhibit the rebirth of my faith about to be told.
Expirate the retainment of solving the rate grief will create its stronghold.
Misleading to debate hopelessly without parental discourse.
Inclinations to rely on how I pray after witnessing my mothers corpse.

Rememberance of the days still vibrant when young,
Memories perceived in purity while naive to much left to come.
She accomplished teaching me how to get through it,
I didn’t expect solitude becoming my closest friend through this.

Cancer had touched my mother before,
Learning over the phone it became difficult to control.
I had partially coped with a desire for drugs infectious rush.
After the phone hung up, the voice of my recovery was hushed.
I relapsed, requiring just a small chemical push.

I have dna altered by a lifetime of a mother playing eighties songs.
Singing along in preparations of what would soon be lost.
I spent another year and half out of tune due to drugs,
That call would be the last for us before her time would come.

I’m in rehab when her sister finally tracked me down.
I learned the cemetery is where she is headed now.
I’m remorseful of last years track,
If only I would have maintained control during that.
When I said goodbye and said I love you back,
I recall the last moment my mother and I spoke, we both said that…


© neconomic