I realize when I start to cry at that Sharon Olds Poem
That I am becoming my mother more and more everyday
Her abundance of emotion used to make me uncomfortable
But now I understand all that tragedy is just pressing there
Right behind your eyes, all the time, how can I ever breathe
How can I ever love, with all this love, just crushing me
I found your razor blades wrapped in a scarf in your bureau
In their small paper box, satisfying in its size and density
I laughed and wept because we are the same
Just a thin layer of skin between too much a not enough
We hide our razors to keep us safe, I know your thoughts
If you die I die
~Me
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