we found you sleeping by your lover's stone; a ream of paper and a telephone . A broken bow across a long lost violin .Your lover's angel told the captain's man "it never ends the way we had it planned" and kissed her palm and placed it on your dreaming head
It's miraculous. My head is so stuffed with mucus and other sick-like things, but yet I still have enough room in there to throw about thoughts of addling confusion. It's saturday, and there's no end in sight.
It's negative 5 degrees in my house. I'm spending my day cleaning, with a voice lesson thrown in the picture.
Speaking of pictures, my school pictures came the other day. I look ridiculous. My head is tilted in confusion, compliments of the imbicile who snapped the photo. My mother insisted I send my new school picture to my bio-father. " He'll love it Amanda, you know that" She say's. "You also should call him , you promised you'd call him."
He doesn't want to miss out on my life. I can't decide if that's sweet, or insulting.
" You should be thankful!" everyone tells me. " You have FOUR parents who love you."
Mother #1 whos nuerotic and overprotective, who burns insence and does yoga. Who nags incessently, and collects things from India. Things with shiny deep exotic colors, colors we don't have here in NY.
Mother #2. I've only seen her once since I left.
She was bubbly, over-affectionate, and emotional. I sat on a couch with her and my birthfather, and she said to him
"it's nice to have us all together. A real family"
I sit here, and the only reason I can picture her face is because of the photo i have of her on my nightstand. I didn't have the heart to tell her.
Father #1 whos overbearing and has the expectations that reach the roof. Who's ridiculous temper matches mine.
Father #2- Easy going. Rolling in it. Tall, muscular. Physically, I'm his clone
My parents and b-parents insist they love me more than the other.
In a letter my b-mother wrote me years ago, it says:
" No one will ever love you as much as I"
That realization keeps me running forward, and I've looked back only once. I never question what I saw when I looked back, afraid of what I might find out.
