i don’t want your future mother

b.i.w.

dear future me,  

i felt bad that morning  

looking at your sad, 

deep-like-a-well black eyes.  

I truly felt bad.  

Although a lot may say I didn’t because I left at the end, 

They all have to know 

that that was me I was looking at—  

sad, sick, unsatisfied with life  

future me  

when will you learn that this is you,  

and that is me.  

I look at you and wonder about your life  

and possibilities. 

You could have been so much more mother,  

but he took you as a slave; 

that wicked man—he either charmed you  

or spelled you.  

I expect nothing less,  

through my eyes and your eyes as well,  

a dilemma of choices. 

You took this road, so why shall I  

if one took this road then this road is full?  

I will choose the other road—  

choose to go and 

not look back mother, 

because you will be sad.  

Your eyes will be filled with tears  

that will divide this path from its flowers.  

Don’t look back, because if so, 

you will see your past self; 

you will see me  

there 

doing the undone.  

Doing the scandalous.  

Doing the preposterous   

of leaving you.  

Leaving you to not become you—  

leaving you to avoid this you.  

Leaving  

me