Atheneverse

I'm not sure if she ever read me.

I, a writer who longs for brushes and colours at any time, am aggressive in my narrative construction, hungry and stabbing at every premise that hangs in the cavities of my throat. I need to swallow it right now—once a sip if possible—then my nuance will come out, soaring a colourful land in which a life lives. A hologram of the life I thought existed when she consented to my creation in her womb.

But as bright as the cities were, the sweet puffed cakes, the sweet parcels stuffed with garden flowers, the royal princess dresses and sparkly nail polish—all that couldn't make Mum read. They couldn't make Mum take the time to read to me.

Mum's time was across the horizon. Where there are the most complicated crossovers that I will never understand. In the remains of her life, in the remains of her breath that had not yet reached 60 years at that time; my Mum did not stop fighting, even though her body fell.

So, this is where she lives now, in my writing that I believe will never be completed. In the writing that she may never even read. In the writing that is always eternal.

- JJ. Fidela Asa

www.tg-me.com/us/Atheneverse/com.atheneverses/116

4.6K viewsAug 18, 2023 at 00:48

I'm not sure if she ever read me.

I, a writer who longs for brushes and colours at any time, am aggressive in my narrative construction, hungry and stabbing at every premise that hangs in the cavities of my throat. I need to swallow it right now—once a sip if possible—then my nuance will come out, soaring a colourful land in which a life lives. A hologram of the life I thought existed when she consented to my creation in her womb.

But as bright as the cities were, the sweet puffed cakes, the sweet parcels stuffed with garden flowers, the royal princess dresses and sparkly nail polish—all that couldn't make Mum read. They couldn't make Mum take the time to read to me.

Mum's time was across the horizon. Where there are the most complicated crossovers that I will never understand. In the remains of her life, in the remains of her breath that had not yet reached 60 years at that time; my Mum did not stop fighting, even though her body fell.

So, this is where she lives now, in my writing that I believe will never be completed. In the writing that she may never even read. In the writing that is always eternal.

- JJ. Fidela Asa

BY Atheneverse