monah mayhemJan 5, 20191 minGone AgainTwist your tongue around my words, just to call me yours. You were already gone and so you left, and so you will leave again, and I will stay sitting here on stained couch cushions thin-skinned, milk-tip brimming, playing mind games with myself, as time weaves bones into baskets, wind turns rocks into sand. This is a textured kind of motherhood. To be honest, I never like to be, and you will cut off all your hair anyway, only to say in a fateful promise that someday and somed