Disappointment
She perpetually emits via practiced
looks that speak novelettes of how little
you have given her amid vast need she insists
she deserves. The greatest curse she can spout
is I don't know what she's doing. Because
she believes she deserves an accounting
of every thought and gesture, invested
as she is in living vicariously
through someone she long ago decided
she owned. Nothing mutual recorded
anywhere but in her imagination.
This, she knows to be the essence of
motherhood, despite your not being her child,
bragging to all hearers you are family.
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