In the Trail of the Wind
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2010-01-24 22:23:45 (UTC)

Empty Air: Why weren't you there?

I never knew the color of her eyes.

She never looked me in the face.

I was like a cat to a dog lover,

she only tolerated me if I was out of the way..

In my dreams,

I would run into her arms,

but she always faded away,

and I was left holding only air.

Her hair was a soft shower of gold,

a waterfall of cascading silk.

Her skin was light and smooth,

not a blemish to mar its tone.

And I am dark and hollow-eyed.

My hair is coarse and thick,

and as black as the place in my heart

where my mother's love should have warmed me.

I can't remember her eyes.

I remember her face.

I remember her voice,

telling me "Go away."

I remember the hate in her voice.

I remember crying to her,

and just wanting a hug.

I remember her walking away.

And once again,

I was hugging empty air.

My mother wasn't a mother,

and I wasn't a daughter.

A parent's love is a mystery to me.

The comfort of a mother's arms is a foriegn thought.

The feeling of a father's pride is unknown.

Where there should have been a mother,

I grew up alone.

And I can hold on to her memory as tight as I dare,

but all I will ever be holding is empty air.

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