Autumn's Gone
A blow echoes through my stomach.
Blood drips from my nose.
Eyes wide in terror.
And…
Time freezes.
I go to the memory,
Of a fall evening,
Maple leaves falling,
Falling,
Falling,
Down.
She would catch me,
Fix my scarf,
And we would share an apple turnover.
Cinnamon, sweet, lovely.
She eats the flaky corner,
Gives me the treat,
I gaze into the filling,
My tongue reaching to taste it,
And.
I.
Bite.
But nothing’s there.
The dream quickly fades.
For a moment I thought of reaching out,
Calling her name,
Begging her to come with me.
But I knew,
With the painful bitterness in my throat,
That would never happen.
So instead I see glass,
Floating in the air,
Twirling,
Revolving,
Spinning,
Towards my head.
I duck.
She’s still with me.
But the autumn has gone from her eyes.
Instead she swears,
Curses my ability to stand,
My inability to bow to her
Drunken slurs,
Agonizing blows,
Devastating words,
And I know that in the morning,
This monster will be there,
Sleeping.
And maybe then I'll go,
Back to the time of,
The maple leaves,
The scarves,
And the apple turnovers.
To the real mother I once knew.
And loved.
[/navy] Blood drips from my nose.
Eyes wide in terror.
And…
Time freezes.
I go to the memory,
Of a fall evening,
Maple leaves falling,
Falling,
Falling,
Down.
She would catch me,
Fix my scarf,
And we would share an apple turnover.
Cinnamon, sweet, lovely.
She eats the flaky corner,
Gives me the treat,
I gaze into the filling,
My tongue reaching to taste it,
And.
I.
Bite.
But nothing’s there.
The dream quickly fades.
For a moment I thought of reaching out,
Calling her name,
Begging her to come with me.
But I knew,
With the painful bitterness in my throat,
That would never happen.
So instead I see glass,
Floating in the air,
Twirling,
Revolving,
Spinning,
Towards my head.
I duck.
She’s still with me.
But the autumn has gone from her eyes.
Instead she swears,
Curses my ability to stand,
My inability to bow to her
Drunken slurs,
Agonizing blows,
Devastating words,
And I know that in the morning,
This monster will be there,
Sleeping.
And maybe then I'll go,
Back to the time of,
The maple leaves,
The scarves,
And the apple turnovers.
To the real mother I once knew.
And loved.
♠ ♠ ♠
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