thank you mr skype

today you asked me whether you could speak to your son.
i'm not even your wife.
you're not even my husband.
but i won't get involved.

take me back, to when we would laugh as the kid
walked out the door, in search of mom
who had left to look after her ailing father.
once, twice, thrice a month.
but we're okay.
because you took care of us,
we laughed at the kid.
who thought she was so far away
that she was in australia.
his "australian mama".

fast forward it a couple of years.
the faithful husband feels like the faithful extra.
the wound deepens as the money gets stuck
like a bone in his throat,
piercing through every time he speaks.
he rasps and cuts
with words in between his teeth.

one day,
she says i don't know what to believe,
he'll sell me for money,
he'll sell me real cheap.
so back we go, scarborough fair moved from down the road,
it's a live auction,
for what cannot be bought with gold.

i remember you washing toilets,
cooking lentils over a tiny stove,
your huge frame hovering over us,
making us eat, so you could watch us grow.
polishing our shoes till our faces shone in them,
brushing my hair, so the whole world could see
my face.

then i remember you defeated. pulling that knot of silk away from your neck,
a marks and spencers man, walking in shoes,
that previously we'd have to sell our souls to afford.
you'd sit down and simultaneously, a hand would extend,
the tv zaps on,
and you move from one world onto the next.

you never picked up a brush again,
and you certainly never scared me.
you got old,
and weary. and i could not give you anymore happiness
than a stamp of that A on a piece of paper you never had.
but i had other plans.
see i wanted to see the world, beyond the two extremes i had known.
i wanted to fly away like her,
and i want to feel what some feel,
when they discover they were made for more,
than living the stationary life between the strings of newton's cradle.
i was suffocating,
under your silence,
and yet you were unable
to snap out of your trance,
between the western unions,
and the local masters,
you tried to brave the whip,
but the lashes came.
bottle to your lips,
the lashes fade.
we remained,
we remain.

today you asked me whether you could speak to your son.
it'd been so long since i heard you.
i don't wear shoes that need shining,
my hair is always in my eyes,
my heart is hurting.
but of course, you can speak to him.
please, please, just don't ever ask,
me that again.
my friend,
my light,
my strength.

voldemort

i burned all my diaries.

i tore up anything, 

anything that held you accountable for what you did.

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i close my eyes.

swaying my head from side to side,

my limbs follow,

my hips too.

all of a sudden, 

i'm rising away high above the dull grey ground.

flashback,

clock ticking, ten twenty

sweating bullets, as it's getting heavy

burden like a leash on me,

it ain't on my back,

no they took i by the neck

leading me into the dark

with only a tug here, a tug there to follow

my feet don't stop

they take i 

they take i again and again

till the blood drips 

and i cry.

then i look down.

i left that behind.

i left them all behind.

and now, i'm flying.

i'm free.

but the cold air sweeps across my naked back,

and i'm reminded how metallic that concrete pavement tasted,

the day they threw me out.

for trying to help.

for shouting for peace.

i realised then

that i was too small to understand.

i was too dispensable.

because even in the grand scheme of things,

all that mattered was the way they treated each other.

every time they argued,

that leash would tear at the back of my neck, 

making red streams of tears flow,

tears my body cried

against the confines of my mind.

my arms are stretched away from each other.

i lift my head up high, and even though,

i'm losing altitude,

i'm plummeting,

i want it to end soon.

i know i'll meet my old friends again.

but i want them to know,

i'm no longer what they knew.

i take no sides,

i have no say.

i just want them to see,

that i'll be okay.

i'll crawl on without them,

they can leave their chains on me,

but i'll move on with them.

all that matters is how they treat each other.

because my life will go on,

i'll learn to fly again.

but they'll be left there,

alone on the ground,

if they don't learn to pull each other up,

to the skies,

to our eternal home beyond the stars.

where the greyscale of our lives,

the mundane existence we have lived,

ceases to exist altogether.

the scars left by your chains will heal,

but until then, 

when will you rid your own demons?

when will you join me?

i still love you.

i can't help coming back for you.

and every time it ends, with that metallic taste of blood and concrete in my mouth.

can't we make it different this time?

try harder.

please.