Cherry Enough

The truth hurts, and it is not pretty.

The door was closed to me

from the inside.

 

She peeled back my skin

and buried shadows

beneath my bones

deep enough

to fill a grave

with silence.

 

She curved my spine

with her inane smile,

planted clouds

between my shoulder blades

until each vertebra

became one in a long column

of linear excess -

a rain chain for the ages.

 

When she was through,

she dreamed herself

sideways

tilted and twisted

into an empty nest,

empty of the flesh she bore,

the skin she tore

and left in ruin.

 

She had no heart to heal

just fragments

and pieces

of night

without light

and fallen stars.

 

I reminded her

of her

when she was pure

and good

and ripe for the picking.

 

I was a mirror

a reminder

a reflection

of who she used to be

and wished to be -

a sweet delectation

 

cherry enough

 

to be a stain.

Author's Note

As a daughter of a narcissistic mother, I was never good enough. "You are nothing and a nobody and no one will ever love you," is what she said to me when I was 13 years old. It's quite maddening when you are blossoming into a young lady only to find that your mother is jealous of you. It is the rivalry that dares not speak its name.

Reviews

[Lorry]

On first reading, I thought with the mirror that this may be about self harm, but after reading the authors note I realise that is was indeed far worse than that.
It is difficult for even the reader to x comprehend the thought of a mother's hatred to her own child, for simply being young and reminding her of all her Ageing flaws, perceived or otherwise, but to be that child must have been like living a life that resembled the crazyness that the mother in the Carrie movie had, but slightly less endearing.
You are something, just not the thing she thought you would be, which forgive me if I get the technical name of it wrong, but I don't know what the courts would call a murderer who kills their own batshit crazy mother.
I'm amazed you were so relatable in this piece, and not writing this with crayon all locked up cozy in a bouncy room with wraparound jacket with too long sleeves. Come to think of it, I wouldn't have been surprised if you had barked this at people passing, so you win after all and she'd have hated that.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Dear Lorry,

What a passionately written review. I can tell that you really felt the pain of this piece. You are right though, it was like growing up in an asylum. The days when she would lock us in the house and go into one of her tirades threatening to kill herself and leave us all alone, just wow!

[willweb]

Cherry enough to be a stain. Wow, it doesn't get much cooler than that. This had a dark tint to it. Like black oozing into the blue but it was all you and that is all it takes for me to be amazed.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thanks, dear friend.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

This might be my favorite from you....I love the mirror, the reflection....the person she used to be and the person she is now carrying on a conversation with her former self.
All the reminders of who she used to be...and maybe could be again?
But time curves our spine, puts us out of joint...it just happens...we can only go along for the ride and hope at the end we were the best expression of ourselves at any age.
j.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Jacob.