She sacrificed who she was
so parts of her could live.
Her dreams, her heart,
her hope, her body,
her sanity.
So her two little girls could
dream big, work hard, and climb high.
Sometimes they feel her ache
through their chipped bones.
It's loose gravel raveling,
a hushed and brittle, crisp lucid, like a heart splintering to the brink of collapse.
The tear of an acute wound that blisters unnoticed, soothed by a rickety foundation.