the idea of perfection
i chewed and rolled on my tongue
sticky, sweet, in time bitter
like a silly old bubblegum.
buried in eraser dust
the ashy remains of pencil shavings
“be a good child, you must
bring honor on a paper for love.”
nothing to dry my tears,
so i used my loose sheets.
the sheets painted blue
and left marks of red on my cheeks.
like the golden bangles my mother wore
i was flaunted on all occasions.
“keep at it you’ll get love and more.”
the affection-quenched throat in me croaked.
but alas even my mother’s
bangles were ingenuine
the kiss i received for every success
wasn’t enough but just maddening.
“who was i anyways?”
a vessel not worthy for tenderness
a child trapped in sticky bubblegum.
my life, empty, colourless.
“make it stop will you, love?”
I don’t want to keep chewing
this sticky, tasteless bubblegum
wait, who was i talking to again?
who was i talking to again?
my lover or my up-bringer
who made me this way?
i don't want to remember.
am i going crazy?
please, tell me you'll love me.
or will you just expect things from me?
please, just let me breathe….