Mum's heart

She loved me so much. I dint know. Her mannerisms were peculiar. She was hot alright but I didn’t feel her vibe. The presents were endless. I made it clear, hug, ass-out hug was as far as we'd go. She knew almost everything about me, even my dog's birthday. She'd buy mum that teapot she wished for to go with her rare china clay coffee mugs, my sister that prom dress she wanted to impress with, my little brother that play station game he so desperately yearned for and me that awesome shirt I dint even want. She'd stick around no matter how cozy I got with my girlfriends just to make them feel bad about themselves. She'd talk to me about that sick aunt or that uncle in the states who I didn’t even care about, just to lock them out of our conversations. She was the first @ the hospital when I got involved in an accident n dutifully saw me out of the wheelchair hated her guts. Her fruitless quest led her to my mum. Poor, old, frail, diabetic mum. She was a girl after my mum's heart. My mum was the first person 2 ride in her car when she bought it. When mum fell sick n I was like totally broke, she took charge n opened her wallet generously 2 settle her bills. She bought my little sister her first jisty phone n enslaved my brother with a bike. Mum was elated. I was disgusted. Then Candy broke my heart. Mum scolded n asked me why I couldn’t pluck the grapes right in front of my face n stay happy forever. I just didn’t feel her. Then it happened. She asked me out to dinner. I reluctantly accepted. Then she brought up the subject. I didn't realize I was so indebted to her. Men usually do this but she asked me first, ‘will u marry me?" I laughed. In fact, right in her face. She wasn’t joking. She'd had enough. I only saw the blade glistering in the candlelight momentarily before it sliced me. I passed out. When I came to, my mum was in the same hospitals. The bandages on my face serving to reiterate the gravity of the situation. I had lost my vanity. I no longer had my face. She surely got 2 my mum's heart.
© Ian