Friday night on the beach, 

The cold teeth of your mother planted in my thigh. 

she is rich and flavourful. 

A drop of saliva in my mouth, and now I am hers.

Ice broke from the sky,

gashing my skin.

She drank it all,

The sweetest of teas.

And asked

for more.

Nothing was left.

Do you miss her ? 

Dream of her cold, dark fangs

When you touch yourself in the mirror ?

Listen to me.

She drained me of my hopes.

Listen to me.

Ignore her bitter cries.

It's a bad day to be dreaming about mothers.