|
It had been a tentative gift that I had given her, one that I felt held no real weight or meaning, it was just my name. But it had been a gift all the same, for I had nothing to truly give her. There was nothing to my name, no possession I could impart upon her form. And yet she took it from my hands and turned it into something beautiful. Whispered it into my ears, a name I owned and heard every day of my short life, and yet she reinvented it within the brief seconds in which she spoke it. On her tongue it sounded majestic, beautiful. With each moment I spent in her embrace, I could feel myself changing. Maybe, with her in my life, I could finally learn to be beautiful. But all I could manage was a pathetic nod, an affirmation that my name was correct. Even if it hadn't been, I would likely have changed my name to whatever she spoke just to please her.
And so when she beckons me to gaze upon her I do, even if I can't comprehend why in the world anyone would find wings and a horn paired together weird in any way. I'm new to this world, to the racism that exists far from my realm of quiet suffering and existential worrying. But I listen, and I soak in her words like I am a sponge and she the water that quenches me. And I whisper a promise in return, one that I will try my hardest to keep, if only because perhaps then she will be proud of me. "I-I try." Is she aware of how much I would sacrifice for her, in this moment? My soul reaches out to her, wanting only to tie with hers and be in harmony together. To be loved, to be cherished.
"Or...I could be 'Momma' if you want me to..."
I stare at her for longer than is likely polite, and my eyes burn with liquid that gathers on my long black lashes like dewdrops on sweetgrass. Could I truly have a Momma that loves me? One that looks like me, calls me beautiful? It seems like the Gods have finally decided to stop toying with me, to offer me a chance at redemption, at happiness. And it's so much, so intense, such an earth-shattering revelation that I cannot force my tongue to move into words I want to shout.
"You can stay with me as long as you want to."
No more running after disappearing slivers of white, or waiting up at night with Fae shivering against me for a warmth that won't be coming. I can finally...maybe...be free. I want it so badly it aches, but I fear that Jiri will grow weary of me too, that it will be her back I'm chasing as she walks out of my life like Momma did. But I need this so much more than my fear can enshroud, and as diamonds slip down my cheeks- this time from joy- I can only nod my head against her. Her breath is warm and comforting, sweet like apples and clover, as she whispers a secret into my harks. That I am beautiful. And I want to believe it, allow myself for just this moment to do just that, and I'm laughing and crying and hiccuping myself silly when I finally get the words out.
"Yes. Yes, yes. Momma. Momma." And I chant it softly, cheeks wet but laughing through my hiccups as I shuffle impossibly closer to the warmth of her body. Wash myself clean of the previous holder of the title I speak, for even if I cannot forget, I can move on. I can try. I can make you free, Momma, by leaving you. So I found another Momma, one who whispers secrets in my ears and calls me beautiful, one who makes my name sound like that of a king, and I love her. I love my angel Momma. "L-Love you, Momma. Momma." My heart has crawled free of the prison of my ribcage, this profession of love sincere despite the time I'd known her, awaiting her response.
My new Momma is an angel, and I don't deserve her, but I love her. I love her. I love her.
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[P] i remember saying prayers for someone kind
