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The Day He Burned Her Portrait
The child was once atop the mantle,her girlish smile, chiselled into chipmunk cheeks,blue and white pinafore dress, the princess of the schoolyard,staring out at her protector as he picked up the frame she rested in,barely able to speak, or to scream,as she was lost to the fire.
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It Was Just A Dream
I had a dream that she stopped loving me. The sky was pretty when she sent me away,not a tear from the clouds, who were braver than I,but I left an ocean on her shoulder,my claws deep in the flesh of her palm as they pulled me from her and down into the abyss. I…
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A Portrait Of My Motherhood, From The Perspective Of My Long Suffering First Born
7am, she was my alarm, loud lullabies at the wrong time of day, her voice following the melody of the clattering kitchen as I followed the smell of toast to the table. She had my school tie in her hands, throwing it to hands that were too tired to catch as her wife watched the…
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Mum
I was an early birthday present,presented after the fog of the anaesthetic had fallen away,tiny hands reaching for the only friend I had known, in the nine months I had been baking,longing for the fond familiarity of a mother’s mighty embrace. The blessed daughter of the vernal equinox,to be born of your light was a…
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I Am A Disappointment To My Father, and He Is A Disappointment To Me
My father was a man of few words and a man of many drinks,losing the will to love somewhere around my mother’s second trimester,and maybe it’s my fault,for forsaking my sense for sentiment,writing off his rage as just a temporary temperament,saving the day with some new excuse,letting my soul be used,until there was nothing left.…