Note: This poem has nothing to do with an unborn child or a mother or their relationship. Kindly comment below about your interpretation of imagery.
I was coiled to my content, my eyes
There on your lap, I
Had reduced myself to your devices
Coiled to the life that held you close
Almost clutching you,
To this tryst that you never thought of
I could feel myself growing, swelling
I looked just the same, but feeding
Onto what was yours at the first place.
You just let yourself change, become
The misery that you thought
Was a privilege. Was happiness.
Your heart beats to my heart
Your existence runs through my veins
I’m attached to you by a reason
That will be removed and
Pale and lifeless.
So, who are you in all this
What makes you the thing you are
When I get fathered
By this long drawn mistake of yours
Who mothers you?
Since it has mistaken you.
So I will leech on to you until I outgrow
The strength of your patience
The space of your care
The limits of your love
I’ll be on my own to this world
I don’t know enough to despise,
But I will not remember you anymore
Won’t understand who you were
Until you subsume yourself into me again
And rest my head for love.