Bubbles

Nine months proves a hefty fruit,

Two weeks overdue and plump as ever,

The weight limits the distance,

The distance between soles,

And the distance achieved from my initial jump,

This fact fears me the most,

And most likely is the push behind my pushing,

The need to have bubbles,

Plural that is, plural bubbles,

It’s unfair for both of us,

Too much weight behind my actions,

Not enough belief in my words,

Yet whatever you say echoes,

Only to cease at your bay,

I love you,

And I want to fix it all for you,

But I cant,

So I am scared,

Scared that I will be you,

Unfixable you,

Such a wealthy lonesome woman,

You have to do it for yourself Momma,

Maybe motherhood skews judgment,

But even for your kids,

You need to do it for yourself,

And not with money,

The darkest form of green,

You need to do it with people,

And love,

And experience,

So please Momma,

Trust my love,

You say you know me most,

So use it,

Use it for us,

For you are a mystery to me,

I trust you completely,

Even though I do not know you now,

I need you most.


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