Short Stories & Poetry

Everything

When I was a child
My mother handed me the world.
"You're a good girl," she said.
"Just be a good girl for mummy,
and you can keep it."
I could barely hold it
in my tiny, quivering hands
but with eyes as wide as disks
I nodded my head,
filled with awe wider than galaxies
and a love stronger than the pull of moons.
Little did my young mind know
neither was returned;
at least not how I imagined.

Even so her need for me grew stronger
holding me closer, firmer and
watching my every move, just waiting
for me to slip up like a vulture waits
for the creature to drop dead.
"Just be a good girl," she said.
"And I'll hand you the stars."
She was true to her word,
offloading a fiery heart into my lap
so that it burnt my tender skin,
yet I remained oblivious to the pain
so in awe was I.

I remained oblivious to the luggage
she dropped with it, my shoulders
slumping under the weight,
yet it passed by unnoticed.
And all this while she
kept the stardust for herself.
Still, I stood, a-mock with awe
and with love stronger than a black hole
for this woman who gave me everything
including, I discovered,
the scattered debris of exploded suns,
a load I didn't ask for.

Still, I gazed with wonder as steadily
I accumulated the universe,
blind to the lies behind the guise
of a love so deep I am falling
just as the world falls apart at my feet.
I stand bleeding out in the open,
wrists torn open, heart flapping
and flailing like a fish out of water
on the unforgiving concrete in front of me.
But she does not step forward with
offerings of bandages for these wounds
for she only ever did what she said she would
and so did I, as after all
I asked for this.

I ran on in the darkness towards
what I thought was the light
only to stumble
way past the event horizon
of this black hole love.
No turn-backs now
this isn't reversible, oh no
been on my best behaviour, mummy
won't you look at where that got me?
I've been a good girl.