Artwork by RōNIN

This day, that year and yet there are 72 months in between.
I still remember it like the morning sun that I had seen.
If my knowledge on math is good, today you would be six.
I console myself with wine and cheese, come on now, that’s a good mix.

I don’t carry any emotion or remorse when I think of you.
You remind me of all things sad and that kind of a hue.
You nameless, shapeless blemished little flesh of baggage.
I still wish that day was nothing but a mirage.

You once reminded me that I could be a creator too.
For that my darling, I’m eternally grateful to you.
He saw me rolling on the pool of unadulterated blood.
The kind that usually lies within the depth of my creed

He dint say a word and I was taken away in a stretcher.
Tears rolled by as the doctor was getting ready to be a butcher.
I must admit dear, you were a real pain in the womb.
A place I was told is where you would bloom.

I didn’t want you. You were never meant to have a heart.
Are you heartless, you ask, oh well now where do I start?
You and I weren’t meant to be together, we wouldn’t last.
I’m glad you are now where you belong, which is the past.

I touch my tummy, I don’t feel the pain and you aren’t there.
I smile a bit. Cry a bit. Yet I think you saved me from the fear.
I don’t need you. You don’t define me. You are now free.
But let me wish you well as you will always remain to be a piece of me.

Thank you.
—

Sharada Subramanian

Read our exclusive Artletter

Painting by Catrin Walz Stein

Subscribe to receive the most awe-inspiring stories from ArtParasites, only available by ArtLetter.

Be the first to write a comment.