On being woman, mother

Stuffed our bellies with lies,
Screaming with shoulds until we could
not take another bite
Fed us primp and flatten stick straight
no lines

I choked when I aspirated.

To love is to give and chip away at your
skin with a mallet and a needle
To love is to forgive and I gave until my
heart bled out on the table.
A balloon deflates, a flower wilts and
its tattooed onto your eyes. 
The grind on a hamster wheel of lies,
you never got to choose 
where you were situated

You carry it like ball and chain
day after day 
The cry from your gut,
or from your guy 
There are bags in my eyes,
a crook in my neck,

I was always inconsequential. 

With an overflowing cauldron of
feather and bones 
We could not put back together 
New skin, she whispered and I
whispered back that I believed her
A machine spit us out but we see that it’s split
and we were never
cracked to begin with 
Drink in the whole picture,
we bellowed and delivered,
and kept our eyes on the heavens

Hold on to my soul, I’ll throw you a line
Find a glint of star on the surface 
Unloose the stop from your throat, and let go
the belief that we never mattered.

— Chelsea C.