even with the most anger I love him,
I know the sound of his steps,
how his feet hit the ground,
to the shape of his legs,
how his trousers touch his shoes,
memorised his face into my irises,
every freckle to every eyelash,
I hear his voice and I shudder,
Like someone repeatedly stabbed me with a pointed rock,
Chest plummeting inwards,
waterfall starts to gush,
and a landslide forms where my lungs once were,
Everything begins to drown,
I lose my mind,
and I attempt to run,
But nothing seems to put me at ease,
No oasis to harmonise the mind,
No hand to hold while crossing bridges,
just a child with shaking legs,
crying for a Mother which never came to my rescue,
Only shook the ground more,
So I watch,
and I see how my emotions paint me,
watch them pour into me like tea into tea pot,
Steaming,
Even when I am good, I feel it brewing,
the bottom of my stomach starts spinning,
but no sugar on my tongue seems to sweeten my mood,
I try to milk it into my art,
Try let the coffee stains mark my canvas,
But instead my eyes are left with grains,
black and reddish from the tears,
the universe sent him,
and then took him,
my father would tell me to be patient,
to let it seep over me,
I remind myself of all the wrong,
then I laugh, I stop, I become rational,
every night I thank the universe for love,
even if its temporary,
if Ama was here, she would cry for me,
she knows my heart too well.