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
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
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
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
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)