absent adoration (starved hearts)

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to those with shrapnel for mothers--

caregivers who leave their children

hanging

like a fragmented sentence

 

to those who cling fast to

human companions

and burrow themselves into the chests

of men,

suckling maternal love

from a wet nurse's bosom,

fruitlessly

who envelop themselves

in bodily warmth and

hearken heartbeats as though

they're eavesdropping behind

tightly-closed doors--

attempts at manufacturing a

memory of when their mothers

held them close

 

to those who unravel

when they're alone,

you must love yourself

thrice as much

so that you don't grasp at mirages

to satisfy your starved heart






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