Leaving

The truth
has finally hit me.
I tried not to notice the false smiles, and
lots of hidden suitcases,
but now
it has finally hit me.

My mum
has said she's leaving.
I don't want to believe it’s true.
I'm begging her to stay,
pleading
with petty promises
and crocodile tears that earn me nothing
but an empty room.

I'm talking
to a brick wall,
when she looks right through me
as if I'm not there at all.
So now I'm on my knees,
in need of a higher calling
something much bigger than me
to bring about this miracle
I need so
urgently.

Still
she walks out the door
without a backward glance.
I tell myself it’s okay:
my mum
has left me before,
and I know one day she'll be back.