Before you become a mother
your ideals of parenthood are simple,
almost pure.
Until you're thrust head-first
into a sticky black shadow
that resembles real-life
but is actually something quite different.

Sex will become a part of your life again -
tell yourself this.
And you will be wanted,
and return to wanting.

(I still want to fuck in the backseat of a car.)

Then the blue-eyed boy with skin
the colourless shade of milk bottles,
grips at your knees,
calls you 'mama' and makes you forget about your self.