Mamma brings me sherbet
Every morning
In the color of blood.
They reminds me of the morning
In which I saw actual blood
Corroding and turning black
Underneath her bed, vomitted.
She says he loved her greatly once.
He hit her yesterday too.
There’s dried blood in her broken lips
Like dried red hibiscus.
She won’t kiss me now, (true loves kiss)
She’s scared that I might incur
The same fate as her.
So tell me now,
Does your love also smell of anemic blood
Will I be able to kiss my children
Without being scared of their doom?
Will I be able to give my children
Milk every morning
Or is it sherbet in red?
So tell me now,
Do you love me truly or greatly?



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64 thoughts on “Sherbet

  1. I sincerely hope and pray that all these ugly things didn’t happen to you and your mom. God forbid if they did; am sure they won’t to your children. Much love and many blessings to you (may I know your name ?)

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Well I think you have a PhD in writing poetry which predominantly are deep and dark in nature. To express pain, it needs guts, emotions and little bit of skills.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Well the title is attractive bt the poem makes me melt, ur imagination is excellent bt certainly needs some change of happiness … Btw I Hope u r all good..

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Beautifully written, so heartfelt and poignant, Adithya. Why must there be so much blood and suffering in this world as a result of malicious power abuse? You have expressed everything so well… Here I pray for all the blood shed to turn into delicious sherbet for each abused human being.

    Liked by 2 people

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