A Note to My Mother

Mama, do you know I can sense that your voice cracks and there is so much. So much more, you could have told me if it's not for your tears. 

I have this feeling too. Many times. You know when I walk down the streets, I feel as if I am nothing but dust flying over old carpets. I want to faint or melt maybe. I just do not want to be there, wherever I am. But, I still keep carrying on with the smell or the smell that should have deserted me but it somehow does not. I want it to go away as much as I want to have it closer to me. I want this whatever I am writing to be a song because you don't have to say much when you sing. I think the tunes fill the gaps that we lack. I keep going on, I do not breathe because if I breathe I die. As long as I am in your memory that I am in front of your eyes, I am there. After you, there is no me. 

 

P.S. Perhaps, this is what I would pen behind your polaroid photo.