The Joy Scribbles

Again I am super late due to power cuts. But here goes Dear Sir, I don't feel like writing down your name today. I no longer refer to it. Or hold it with the reverence of a little girl learning her first teacher's name. I no longer repeat it to people as if to remind them you once belonged to me. I no longer repeat it to myself in an attempt not to forget you. I try to remember not to say it. I try to remember that they're sick and tired of hearing it. I try to remember not to tell stories that make me laugh if you're in them. Or stories about the first time I did this or that because goddamn it you're in so many fucken memories. So sometimes I whisper it before bed and other days when I'm too busy to remember it crawls into my dreams and holds me. I keep trying to remember that you are no longer comfort. You are no longer home. Your bed is not a place I can bare myself anymore. I can no longer cry in your arms. You can no longer see me as the definition o...

I thought someone was moving in there. I thought I felt your little feet. But I woke up to the trickle of blood between my thighs. What kind of mother never hears her son leave? Never really knows if she dreamt him up? God I wish you'd stayed. Note From author Some women really wish their periods would arrive. They're others who wish they wouldn't arrive out of pain. But Imagine the women who are waiting on a little gift.