Open Wounds

Sometimes I wonder
When you turn on nostalgic music from your youth and your mistress frowns because they are too old-fashioned for her
When you use archaic literary expression to explain your thoughts, and she does not understand
When you switch channel for the news, and she prefers watching something less intellectual
Sometimes, when you do things only Mother would appreciate
Would you miss Mother?

Ah, even if you do, your ego would keep you from apologizing

You were once my hero
I used to be that little girl hugging your pillow
Telling Mommy how I loved Daddy’s smell

Yet I never shall relive that memory
For I no longer revel in your scent
Would not even come close to your bed
So tainted
So wronged

Things are never again the same