Tell Your Mother That I Love You
I think she’s mistaken
when she looks into your silver
eyes.
She yells at you, and sometimes
she cries.
But she doesn’t know what you
do late at night,
Or how that metal between
your fingers never feels right.
You know that time will pass,
And that these heavy feelings
surely won’t last.
But staring at the clock won’t
make it move fast,
And hurting yourself won’t
make you less sad.
I see you — I always do.
I see you when the sky turns pink
and when it’s blue.
Your honey-blonde hair was once
a deeper hue.
And when your mother yells again,
please tell her that I love you.
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