The sight of you brings a flood of foreign emotions I could not quite name. I look at you and my stare instantly softens as soon as they meet your enchanting amber brown eyes. My heart flutters at the melody of your laughter; my face feels warm at t...
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The stars are beautiful tonight.
The way they sparkle. The way they're small to the human eye but are larger. I admire the way they scatter themselves across our night sky, giving not just me a magnificent view but other people as well.
The moon, however, has something stars don't, brighter light. The ominous glow that's being showered upon us, gives us a bit of light to make it through the night.
I sometimes wish I could float around in space, taking in the beauty of all the other planets and having a closer view of the moon. But instead, I find myself on Earth, seated on the roof of my house, my feet dangling off the edge.
It's lovely outside. The gentle breeze brushed through my hair and tickled my nose like a light feather. The sound of the chirping crickets in the distance brought a sense of ease to me. The rustling of the trees. It was perfect.
It was quiet.
It was enjoyable.
I find it better than sitting in my room, staring out my window and only getting a limited view of the stars. Even though my room was the safest place in the world, I think the roof was more comforting because it gave me a choice.
Jump
Or
Admire the sunset, sunrise and the moon.
I couldn't see what I saw at Naomi's home. The city lights complemented the stars alone. I couldn't hear the traffic or the people chatting. We lived on the quiet side, where there was nothing but trees and grass.
I glanced down at my hands and eyed the scars that stained my fingers. They've glued themselves onto each finger. I'd sometimes trace my thumb over them and let them feel how they're deep and unsettling the dents are. I clench my jaw in anger and disgust. I hated my hands now.
No.
Hate is a strong word.
I disliked my hands. They're my insecurity now. Not the bruises that would be painted on my face, not the swelling lips or the finger marks that would print themselves onto my neck.
No.
My hands.
Do I wish to get rid of them? Yes. But unfortunately, they are permanent. Just like the rest of the scars that have decorated my body.
I'm lost in thought when I feel a warm presence beside me. The strong scent of their strawberry perfume was enough to let me know who it was. My mother. A woman I somewhat feel bad for.
Sometimes I'd like to wonder if calling her 'mother' was the right thing to say. Because I can't recall if I've ever called her that. I don't spend much time with her. I spent most of my time in the basement, being beaten and bruised by my father.
I spend most of my time in my bedroom crying and regretting being born into a family so cruel. I spend most of my time in the bathtub, attempting to drown myself. I spend most of my time with a girl I never thought I'd find myself talking to.
I spend most of my time wondering what the hell love is and what it feels like. I spend most of my time realising what I feel for Naomi is love.
So, what do I call you?
Mother. Mom. Mommy.
Or by your name? I don't even know your name. Maybe I do, but I just can't remember what it is.
"I want to apologize." Her tender voice made my heart ache. She takes my hand and holds it in hers. Her motherly warmth heated up my palm. "I haven't been the best mother. I can't even protect you from your father."
He's not my father.
"My husband," Her voice came to a whisper, as she sounded as though she wanted to cry. I don't look at her so I don't know if she is crying or wants to. "If I had a choice, son, I'd run away with you to a place we can do what we want, live out our imaginations."
I look at her. I notice the tears that have already stained her face. I notice how she stares at the moon with a wish and a promise.
"You're just a boy, Matteo. You're my son. I'm supposed to protect you but I've failed at that. I've failed you. My only son, I'm sorry."
My heart aches at her words and I feel the tears run down my cheeks. I feel my lips tremble and the words that I've held back are now beginning to come out. I open my mouth and spill out what I need to say at this moment.
I allow her to hear my voice.
I allow her to hear me.
"You're not the worst mother in the world," She immediately looks at me with widened eyes. I give her a reassuring smile. "Just promise me one thing. We will run away together." I choke on my words as I close my eyes, and the tears come out. I tried wiping them away but they just kept coming. I was pulled into a warm embrace. The same embrace I've been longing for from this woman.
My mother. My mom. My mommy.
Her scent is all I can smell and her heart and all I can hear as I try to control my breathing. She rubs my back, trying to comfort me the best way she can. This is what I needed from her. A hug and words that would break my heart.
"I can't live in a place I can't even call home," I mutter. As those words spilt out, I began to cry. I wrap my arms around my mother and start crying. She holds me tightly and allows herself to sob too.
I wish to stay like this a bit longer.
I wish that this man wasn't the man she married.
I wish in the future we could finally just leave. Leave him in this house and find our own place to call home. A place in the city. A place like Naomi's.
Comfortable.
Warm.
Safe.
A place where I can live out my imagination and finally be able to understand the meaning and feeling of love. A place I can use my voice.
