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And when my mother asks,
about you,
I say,
What is the truth.
"I don't know".
I say it,
But of course,
With a dismissive smile on my face.
With a tinge,
Of "who knows",
And "I don't care",
"Like fuck would I give a rats ass".
But my mind,
My mind races,
To the last point of you,
I can recall.
A conversation,
A picture,
A life,
That no longer encompasses me.
And my mother,
She knows,
She can tell,
From how I shrugged,
The question off,
And she asks no more.