6. Cringed Kisses

May 30

VERSE 1
Momma kissed the dogs on the mouth —
let their tongues clean her face.
But when she kissed me, her lips tightened.
I felt the cringe before I felt her skin.
The dogs got the soft that she never gave us kids.
I got the duty. The quick peck. The push away as she'd say: "Have a good day."

PRE-CHORUS
I was jealous of an animal — and how she'd never kiss me that way.

CHORUS
Momma cringed when she kissed me.
It was Daddy's rule — never sleep or leave without a hug, kiss, and always say "I love you."
She complied. Her lips: a tight fist.
Just a mother's duty kiss.
Cringed kisses — cringed when she kissed me.

VERSE
Daddy pointed it out to me, how she kissed them so tenderly.
I wanted in. She wanted out.
Her face softened when she held the dogs.
Smiled at them, the way I longed for.
I felt like a toad, and the dogs were her kids.

PRE-CHORUS
I was jealous of an animal — and how she'd never kiss me that way.

OUTRO
Dogs got her lips.
I got her cringe.

Loui Crow

I make music, practice mirror work, sometimes I do somatic rage fits, and small forms of magick that help me stay present and kind while things change.

I write songs for myself, my inner child, and for the woman I am becoming.
I work through old patterns, grief, and survival habits as I notice them loosening.

Sometimes I write as the Crow — that's my ideal self. Direct, unattached, protective, grounded in something older than my fear. Other voices come through too. The snake. The spider. The fly. The ghosts are the false selves I created to survive. I write as all of them, for my own self-hypnosis — unpacking who I've been so that my son can fill his days with joy and I can stop being such a reactive parent. I'm in the middle of it all. I just keep showing up.

I use Suno for vocals and instrumentals — the vocals are seeded from my own voice. I'm a disabled veteran and a stay-at-home mom.

Over the last year, I climbed an emotional ladder I didn't know I was on. Many of my earlier releases were the scream — my depression, anger, insecurity.

The last album that came out of that climb is called "Mirror, Mirror off the Wall." It starts with depression and ends with gratitude.

Much of what lives here carries the influence of Louise Hay and Abraham Hicks, especially the idea that my body listens to my thoughts — and that where I place my attention, my life follows.

I leave breadcrumbs in case anyone resonates.

Take what feeds you.
Leave the rest for the birds.

I am molting.
You are welcome here.

https://louicrow.com

6. Cringed Kisses

5. I Look in the Mirror and See My Mother's Face

7. Pretty Is A Death Sentence

louicrow@gmail.com