My mother’s heart is a mammoth

So enormous it can’t be healthy
Never defunct
And so overwhelmed with passion, it’s abrasive

My heart is selective
Sometimes cruel and unfair
Often forgetful
Of another heart that loves it

My mother’s face is worn
Always livid and outraged
A hoax of strength
But rarely flashes an image of its truly fractured heart

My face betrays me at my weakest of times
Showing pity for the endlessly infuriated
The gates of the eyes feeble
When trying to prevent a cascade of tears

My mother’s heart is broken
Mistreated, unacknowledged and abused
Yet only wanting to be loved

My heart is regretful
For not giving it to her

My mother’s body is temporary
My mind unable to process how I would survive if it were to give in
How would I go on without her heart loving me unconditionally?
It is doubtful mine will ever grow as big

5/2012