The Angel With Sapphire Tears

The Angel With Sapphire Tears

She would cry—
Cry at me,
Like sapphires spilling from a broken necklace,
Each tear,
Clattering against marble floors.

She would cry,
Saying I caged her
And cut off her angel wings,
That she was cursed with me,
Her fingers, jewelled and cold,
Closing around my wrist,
Pressing down like the weight of her mind
Until I felt the burn of velvet ropes
Tightening me,
In suffocating softness.

Her tears fell like liquid gems,
Staining the high-thread-count linens
Fraying at the edges,
Drenching me
With the scent of maternal love gone rancid,
Drowning me in the overripe perfume
Of her hatred–
“You should have died that day.”

Other times,
Her indifference was like the winter chill,
Her eyes cold and still,
But when she looked at me,
Those eyes were like scorching summer,
Hard and unforgiving,
Each tear a flawless crystal,
Glinting in the light
As they carved into my soul—
A silent condemnation,
Each bearing the weight of a thousand lashes
Upon my back.
Maybe I should have died that day.

Now, I cannot cry–
Even when I try
To check if I inherited her sapphire tears too
But I don't remember how to cry anymore,
Though, I remember her tears—
Each one, a drop of precious blue
As she crushed me
Beneath the weight of her fluffy pillows.