Microfiction | Love Letters | Loss
Dots
TW: Self Harm
Tiny red and brown drops. All the tiny splatters.
I need to make them disappear.
On my knees, the white tiles marred by the smudges left behind as I slide the sponge across the floor. The smell of bleach and cleansers making me dizzy.
Red and brown streaks of pain.
Red and brown testaments — screaming my maternal failure.
Red and brown dots — so many tiny splatters.
Lines smudged across the floor
All the tiny dots.
I feel the baby move within me, protesting the pressure as I lean over to continue scrubbing the floor. I retch as I think of the blade that slid across the perfect unmarred skin of my heart, of my first grace.
Red and brown streaks of pain.
I blame the magazines, I blame society, I blame the schools, I blame god, I blame… me. Why don’t these damn dots go away, I dropped my heart off hours ago, why are the drops still wet?
Red and brown testaments — screaming my maternal failure
Empty, why do I feel so empty, and why can’t I stop these tears? There is not time for this pain. There is so much to do, so many broken things to fix before my grace comes home. Why is this one still red?
Red and brown dots — so many tiny splatters.
Sitting on the floor to relieve the pressure against my ribs, but the pain doesn’t stop. Sitting straighter to stretch and my vision stays clouded with dots.
Lines smudged across the floor
Someday soon, I will clean them all. There is still time to pay penance and reconcile my inadequacy. For my grace, I will make the world kneel.
Entirely devoid, of -
All the tiny dots.
