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london olive stories
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Autoplay OFF   •   6 months ago
A poem about 'offering an olive branch' to my mom, which is an act of 'gesture of peace, reconciliation, truce'. Thank you for reading <3

london

once my mother loosened her grip.

once my mother loosened her grip. i slipped out easily

once my mother loosened her grip. i slipped out easily shed her love like a second skin

once my mother loosened her grip. i slipped out easily shed her love like a second skin looked for the artist within.

i remember once

i remember once thinking there was nothing to be done

i remember once thinking there was nothing to be done as i turned into marble inside.

replaced blood that tied

replaced blood that tied us together.

replaced blood that tied us together. let the memory of fresh land

replaced blood that tied us together. let the memory of fresh land consume me.

every woman in london's streets

every woman in london's streets is her.

i trace the alleys she walks in

i trace the alleys she walks in as she slips further past.

i trace the alleys she walks in as she slips further past. untangling.

picking me apart so as to find

picking me apart so as to find her child again.

she says,

she says, show me the gap.

she says, show me the gap. show me where i went wrong.

picadilly pales in comparison,

picadilly pales in comparison, i tell her.

picadilly pales in comparison, i tell her. words have long since left.

... to start the year off, i wanted to write about someone close to my heart: my mom. this is my way of 'offering the olive branch' to her. or in other words, an effort to make peace.

she doesn't know i write poetry, but i hope to show her this one day. thank you for reading xxx

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