this pains me to write:

you're just my mother.
you're not my friend.
you're not interested in me.
you care about my well-being,
but somehow, it's not enough.

the only questions you ever ask are,
"what time do you work?"
"did you pick up your pills?"
"is your paper finished?"
all of which you know the answers to.

the meaningful, deep questions
-the ones that make me feel loved-
i have never heard from you.

it's almost as if you didn't even birth me.
i'm questioning if we ever connected at all.

i'm sitting across the table from you as you type,
you don't bother to raise your eyes a few inches from your screen
to see my eyes filled with tears.