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My baby.

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"You don't know what love is!" Mama shouted at me
across the room in her deathbed, with miller in her hand.

Breathe slowly,
exhale softly;
I closed my eyes and imagined...

You know what I imagined, Mama?

I imagined,
A love, that is not the legalized marriage we all hope to get.
A love, that is not the order your parents make.
A love, that is not the unsettling feeling in the pits of your lips when you say the things you don't mean to say.

I imagined,
A love, that makes the butterflies in my stomach free,
A love, that I cannot hold gravity responsible for this deadly sin.
A love, that makes every cell in this empty, thirsty body dance and scream...

I took a breath, and opened my eyes. Standing there, awake, but deeply asleep...

You know what I imagined, Mama?

I wanted a love that no God, Priest, Family, Person, You, Him, Her, They, Government, Society, World, Mama, Papa, or thing can not permit.

What year
did love become a label on married couples can have?
What year
did the World say I cannot be in love when under-aged?
What year
did love become something only in fiction stories and nothing you see everyday?

I may be young and ignorant, but please,
with
a whisper
and heavy heart
all I could
croak with this hoarse throat
and these strong eyes:

"Please mama; don't take my baby away."



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