her words awakened
physical pain
in him
the mere sound of them
was like
claws scratching against
his brain
When she's old enough,
a mother can
hurt her son
like she never could in
her youth
Listening to her
now,
he felt like crying
And she wasn't even
cursing him
She just looked around
and then finally set
her eyes on him
and repeated the
same question
"When is he
coming home?"
"But mother, I am home,"
he cried. "It's me!"
But in reply
she would only make a
confused face
and start looking around
again
and ask the same
question again
She was
only 62
and aside from her
mind
everything was healthy
about her
which only meant that
they'll both be
stuck in
this hell
for longer
Years that will
feel like decades
Reblogueó esto en Daydreaming as a profession.
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona
So sad, but describes dementia so well!
Me gustaLe gusta a 3 personas
(づ。◕w◕。)づ Glad I could achieve that! Thank you 🙂
Me gustaLe gusta a 2 personas
Ohhhh. . . I know this feeling. The pangs of fear and sorrow and the reality of a long purgatorial road with no end in sight. Well done, as usual.
Me gustaLe gusta a 2 personas
Excellent poem! Simple yet powerful!
Me gustaLe gusta a 1 persona