My Mother’s Heart.

There it was, this wilted away skin…

Showcasing years of painful memories.

They stared right at me those big lumps of torn figments…

Once, they had been creamy luscious skin.

Bitter sweet smiles

Parched soul,

Suppressed tears filled in her two containers…

Oozing through the pores of her skin.

Hardened mounts, longing to be seen

Longing to be touched.

Peeling away the layers of joyless years

I found a thing made with her nurturing milk.

In a bed of burnt skin, beating away gloriously,

lay-My Mother’s Heart.

9th April ’04

11.00 p.m

Saadiya Kochar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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