Last Kiss

I just needed to write about this very vivid memory. No, I don't have an Oedipus Complex.

I glance at her from across the room.
This woman I most love.
Waiting to make my approach,
I’m anxious.

Pink-rose cheeks,
Way too much make-up,
like a born-again host’s wife
on a Christian network.

Not the way I wanted her.

My lips touch hers,
the unexpected taste of bitter powder,
and hard coolness,
like kissing a porcelain doll.

I place my teddy inside
her sleeping bed,
just before they close the lid.
But she won't be sleeping,

My mommy is gone.