Dear Mom,
[I know this really isn't a letter like I promised, but you should be used to me giving less then I say I will]
I'm going to feel bad, throwing you into the ocean.
I'm going to have to clench my teeth, close my eyes, and grip my hip [because you're there, forever; in jagged scar tissue with upside down mountain capped M's and a blocky O, you're there, forever.] to keep myself from diving in after you and gathering you back together with the finest cheesecloth, molding you back together and filling you with all the beautiful things you've been drained of. I'll jam sea glass in your eye sockets and replace your weak bird bones wit
Here is my heart
I give it to you
Take it from me
And do what you want to
You can display it
For everyone to see
Or you can rip it up
Right in front of me
But heed this warning:
Its fragile, beware
You can damage it painfully
Even with the smallest tear
So what will you do?
Create or destroy?
But you have been warned
This is not a toy
So here is my heart
I give it to you
Dont give it back
Just do what you want to