Mother

Mother, you remind me of the time of delusional fantasies.

You remind me of warm meals and a mouth full of lukewarm milk,

Cozy blankets and flowers on the curtains,

Reminiscent of blurry past lives.

The memory lane down the road of the yellow stained buildings and the sunflower sown garden,

Is a journey best forgotten.

Mother, you remind me of loud wails and scratching nails on a chalkboard.

You remind of a train wearily sulking down the metal tracks,

Mourning the loss of a time best forgotten.

Mother, you should have known,

Father likes to paint distorted realities,

He once told me, 

I am monstrous like the grotesque womb I resided in.

Father likes to eat stale bread 

And hang dull curtains,

Father likes to remind me;

Mother, you are not real.

Mother, you should have known,

In absentia of lullabies and hands to hold,

It nullifies the brisk full child.

Mother, you should have known,

I did not know how to sew open wounds,

I did not know how to cry when battered,

But the time best forgotten;

Was when I still wished you were here.