Another Mother Poem by Not Long Left

she shreds the bills of responsibilty,
standing heavy with 2 shoulders of stress,
identity found on 'the worlds best mum' photo frame,
if anyone wondered nicola is her name,

picking up picked on food,
a call from an old friend lightens her mood,
if only for a while,
before memories of wild nights and hazy hot holidays,
creep up her spine,
sending shivers of long ago times,
around her tired mothered body,

a body surrendered to the unresponsive walls of the home,
and the diverted selfish eyes of her man,
a temple,
crumbling with the weight of isolation,
bloated with the air of desperation,

crying tears into a shiny clean sink,
ears ringing from the screams of fresh lungs,
seeking solace in matinee murder mysterys,
waiting for the night to silence the the voices,
she yearns to hear and to dissapear,

so she can slip under the covers of warmth,
and wait and wait and wait,
for the man who gave her one life,
and stole the other,
who erased one name,
and replaced it with Mother