it was not just the shrink’s call


her fragile frame
trembling tuning forks within
everytime concealed her fragments
by a constant bleak stare that translated
only long after
as continental desperations surging from somewhere around her overflowed  corner eyes that beheld tiding timidness of time

her tender nine-year oldness
got defined by the shrink
a sensitive adolescent
absolutely normal
finally stamped strong doubts: a case of transmitted depression
fingers pointed towards the accused
myself,  point of origin
both her genetics and symptomatic present

I sat under red focus
like a suicidal parasite
realizing just then
how increasingly dangerous mothering had been showering
my lil girls

grilling sessions
looked one of toughest corporate questionnaires
except for the ‘deeply personal’ theme

I exploded
almost all stained milestones
chained in a row
however illogical it sounded or not

out of the enigmatic pages
a forgotten character rose in quizzical magnitudes
her (biological) father
the probable braveheart then
who proved nonetheless disastrous
obeying my irreparably cursed fatelines

he, a leader of the local masses
a respected family man
how and when and why
me and him
nobody knew

he dissipated like a sudden dust storm one day
fuelled by his alcoholic self, who got no returns
from this fading soul out of his plundering games

dreamy love that almost realized
got stunted by myself
had left him his own way
weeds sprawled out of my fields

and “he” retold ten years later

the enormous silence of the lady shrink
broke out strikingly human
the next morning

a call from the empathetic her
” you shouldn’t tell about him
to her, for her own and your good”
she then knew she had only reiterated my decision taken long back

the drunken wayward man
had already thrown me out of his freaking world
his saved number once answered
” the number doesn’t exist “,
on the very same date nine years ago.

he never existed after that. forever


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