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She forgets, distracts easily, talking passionately and at lengths.
Where minutes turn into deserted moments of anger.
She wants her own happiness and yours, but sabotages both like a plate tossed half-mindedly into the kitchen sink upon a stack of other dishes – it clatters and breaks.

In truth, her eyes are on her children, always.
They are her creation and designed-influence on the world; only she raised them as a different person and now sick in her head, they abandoned her.

Her relationship with herself is the pinnacle, the ever-turning edge of a coin.

The foundation of all things creatively broken, even to herself – unknown.

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