Conversation with a Tombstone

It’s the first time
Since the first time, nine years ago

So many regrets, so many regrets
So many things I wish could be different

Biting my quaking lip
Despite so much to say
But I stay speechless, as the first time

It was here that I lost the privelage
Of taking my mother for-granted
It was here that my memory became unwanted

Still. So much to say:
I miss you
I hope you’re proud
I wish you could meet her
We’re having a child

My gut churns
My teeth grind
And I can’t stop begging the question
“Why Why Why”

Finding it hard to leave, (as hard as it is to stay)
As if this is one last time with her
So I can finally tell her goodbye

It’s hard to bear
That my words, she can’t really hear
Because I’m not speaking to hear my own voice
But so I might remember what hers’ sounded like