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A conversation that i'll never have.
(P1) A conversation that i'll never have;
I can see you sitting far away, hunched over as you always do. Is it because of back pain?stress? or nausea? You always had so many things troubling you on a daily basis—troubles that would persist. Pain. Pain I could never take away from you, so you could finally breathe freely.
I come closer, but with hesitation. Your hair is dirty and matted, and I can see dark circles under your eyes. Where is the spark in your eyes that you used to have? It feels like such a long time ago. You would always play that one song, 'Ode to My Family' by the Cranberries, before taking me into the bath. We could dance and sing along together, teasing each other in the cutest way possible—like a mother taking care of her daughter. It's one of the very few good memories I have of you. It happened when I was 2 or 3; I'm 18 now. Oh, mother, where did you go?
You finally noticed me, looking up with a gentle gaze, tears building up. I stayed silent, my face expressing only disappointment. Would she know why? Is she aware of all the harm she caused?
'I'm sorry,' she shakily said, her voice cracking in those two words, like she could break down at any moment. 'What...?' I softly responded, unable to believe it. 'I'm sorry,' she repeated, looking deeply into my eyes.
© Argenti
I can see you sitting far away, hunched over as you always do. Is it because of back pain?stress? or nausea? You always had so many things troubling you on a daily basis—troubles that would persist. Pain. Pain I could never take away from you, so you could finally breathe freely.
I come closer, but with hesitation. Your hair is dirty and matted, and I can see dark circles under your eyes. Where is the spark in your eyes that you used to have? It feels like such a long time ago. You would always play that one song, 'Ode to My Family' by the Cranberries, before taking me into the bath. We could dance and sing along together, teasing each other in the cutest way possible—like a mother taking care of her daughter. It's one of the very few good memories I have of you. It happened when I was 2 or 3; I'm 18 now. Oh, mother, where did you go?
You finally noticed me, looking up with a gentle gaze, tears building up. I stayed silent, my face expressing only disappointment. Would she know why? Is she aware of all the harm she caused?
'I'm sorry,' she shakily said, her voice cracking in those two words, like she could break down at any moment. 'What...?' I softly responded, unable to believe it. 'I'm sorry,' she repeated, looking deeply into my eyes.
© Argenti
