Blind

I thought if we talked
about that three letter word,
you would be prepared.
I would be ready.
I thought that by having
"the talk", openly
inviting conversation,
you would come to me.
But that moment
has come and gone,
and, too late, I realize
the seed, so carefully planted
didn't take root. How could I know
that he was the wind, and had
already uprooted it,
sent it swirling,
only to drop it
between his lies
and your puberty.

Our relationship
would be different, not like
every other mother and daughter.
And you, not like
every other daughter,
showed me.
Love, even a mother's
can be blind...