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When he got mad; One of three by Azaria Camargo

When he got mad

When he got mad

Suddenly and completely

We are worthless

Not wanting to overstep

My grandparents rush home

Like me, pretending not to hear

Bruises being birthed

In limbo we live as ghosts

Consuming our wrongdoings

We deserve it

To suffer in silence for days

He was tired. We were jovial

As lesser beings, we had

no right

Sometimes. When he got mad

My tiny hand shakily dialled 000

Terrified of breaking my father’s heart

I hung up each time.

When you get mad, I wonder

How did you come

to know my unworthiness too?

One of three

I have no memorable sexual experiences with you.

You were only just okay.

Surely, we must have cared for one another

We gave each other one of our lifetimes, freely.

Deeply, emotionally –

but definitely not happily!

No veils nor embellishments

It was an awful hot mess.

Tolerating each other while

Tracing raw flesh, tasting intimate instruments

Never consummating

Funnily enough, you are one of three

That I have supposedly ever loved.

So, it’s quite sad is it not?

When I’m reminded of your existence



Adversarial exchanges

That is all that I can recall

Why did you find it morally necessary

To embark on an extremist, pessimistic path?

How did you become my one of three

That I ever loved

When I cannot find any kind words for you

Ah! There is one influential thing

I am dying to purge from my spirit

Your constant manifestos about Death.

Before you stained my contentment

I rarely gave it much thought

To you

Death was not the end. Even worse

Upon death we will meet our Creator

Unwillingly receiving judgement for all our ill decisions

I respectfully disagree. But suddenly

Death has festered

A contagion in my mind I cannot shake

One day I will be gone.

My identity and entirety instantly inconsequential

Meaningless atoms to be repurposed by the universe.

You are one of three.

Eventually, you will become nothing.

As will I.

(Image credit: Francine Besas)


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