10 years

Of all the things I've lost, I can't let you go. My mind knows that I should move on. My faith knows that it was for the best.
But my heart bleeds. I keep searching for you in my memory. I keep searching for you in my future. Even though you are irreplaceable. I wonder if I will hold you again in heaven. I wonder if you will visit me in my dreams as the boy you would've become by now. I wonder if your eyes would've still been blue. I wonder if your black silky hair would've lost its luster and sheen or stayed the same. I wonder if you would've been the male figure showering me with the tenderness I've always lacked. Maybe it is best that you're gone. Maybe my expectations of you would've suffocated you.
And maybe that's why I can't let you go. Maybe you represent to me more than just a piece of me. Maybe you are the piece of me I loved the most; the piece I needed the most; the piece I miss the most.
Ten years later, my dried up tears are fountains of pain. The anguish I feel of never holding you again cannot be explained. Ten years ago, I held your tiny dead body in my arms and even though this could be insanity manifested, I know you felt my promise to never let you go. You will always be safe and sheltered in my heart.
My baby, wherever you are now, my connection with you will never be broken.
I am your mother, till my last breath.

I am.....

I am the light, shining bright.
I am the tomorrow that is never late.
I am the glory and the promise.
I am the giver not the taker.
I am the depths of forever and the story of eternity.
I am a never ending myth and an untouchable legend.
I am sought, not the seeker.
I am magic and I am reality.

I am.
And I always will be.

Sudden death

It's never sudden death.
Never.
It's a slow, cancerous death.
Sneaking up uninvited.
Manipulative.
Blending itself casually as if it is exactly where it belongs.
Hissing eerily every once in a while, like a snake does before it attacks its prey.
Retreating only right before it is exposed.
Taking cover.
Reappearing wearing a different skin.
Venomous.
Striking when it's most powerful.
Causing death.
Creating an illusion.
Of sudden death.
But it is never sudden death.

Needles

A child laughs.
She gazes at where the sound of his laughter is floating from. And she smiles. And the child laughs some more. Her gaze falls on them.
He's laughing along with the child's laughter. Teasing him even further; wrestling gently, tickling and driving his joy to even higher heights. She is trying to disentangle their messy web of limbs and failing, a look of happiness and serenity glowing on her face. Even though it's dark. She surrenders and laughs along, her womanly pride of being both the wife and the mother of the couple next to her unerringly evident.
She turns her gaze back to the emptiness in front of her. And she waits for him to return with her coffee. He's been gone for five minutes but she already misses him. She misses their unfinished story. She misses the husband he will be. She misses the father he will become.
And that's the exact moment she feels it again. The invisible prick of the needle, carelessly drawing blood from her heart, leaking into her soul. She brushes off the familiar feeling. She knows this needle. It's only one of many, sucking her dry; slowly but surely.
And the smile that illuminates her face when she sees him returning toward her can be mistaken for anything. But pain.