Member-only story
Poetry
today i put on perfume
that reminds me of a woman
i do not call mother
yet the scent is warm and fresh
like a grapefruit basking in the sun
cut open to reveal a smile
i wistfully think of her hugs
and the clear bell-like sound
of her laugh
i now can’t ever recall
the scent of my own mother’s favorite perfume
and even if i did
i wouldn’t wear it
i don’t want the oils
blending into my skin
like inked words running together
on a tear-stained letter
my father texted me today
telling me how proud he is
that i am nothing like my mother
tiny buds of tears sprouted in my eyes
moved yet saddened
touched yet remembering
of course i do not mother my children
like she mothered me
i know what it’s like
