I've heard your bones break and your tears watering dead flowers but I'm myself a wreck and so how could I heal you? I'm just like you but maybe a happier sad song. Under the rain, when you used to come to pick me up from school, I saw the lashes on your face but you were the one who hid razor blades. How do I explain myself, that you are my mother? You've gifted me diaries, if you ever read them, you'll come know what a ruptured woman you are. Ruptured and evil.
Mother, you've dismantled me -
saying me that you've killed my demons,
when you are actually the demon.
Can't look away when you're falling,
when you cook, when you water an empty garden.
In summer, when my ice cream fell,
or when you brought in a stranger.
Have you seen daddy touch me?
You did.
You said,
He was doing it because he loved me
and wanted to save me.
But now it's really an old story. I love someone else, someone who loves every black and white story of mine, someone who discarded all the colours of this world just to let my ink run wild. I love how I can curl up inside her and how she can make my hands tighten around window railings and your kitchen slab. Maybe, that's why you called me a hoe. But every second, I crave to write for her because someday I might jump off a building.
My rib cage has candies and
dead butterflies that you despise.
I loved her, you burned her.
You might know a billion men;
but you do not know the happiness
her lips can inject into me.
I've had her hold my jaw to love.
Not to kill.
She held onto me,
I hope you would somehow
make it out of that frozen household.
But I'm sorry mother,
I'm too broken and I can't
help you, I'm too fragile.
Afraid that I'll break again.
I'm walking on a pavement.
With someone drowning behind me.
That old lady, carrying a dead puppy;
I saw her hide a knife.
My daddy was out to bring groceries,
my hands dripping of pomegranate juice.
Or decaying blood.
Daddy said me you were afraid of oceans.
But hey, mommy?
Didn't you know that I'm an ocean?
And you'd probably drown in me?
~Sampurna
YOU ARE READING
Ink And Echoes
Poetry♚ ❛ Juliet, Tell me what is it like to vanquish - When you tossed the coin, And stepped on the battleground, With the accent of swords. Still you stand, Hands dripping of sin. In search of Romeo, You killed, And killed, And died. ❜ { Highest rank in...
