Where are we?

Mother, what have we done to each other?

When did we stop kissing goodnight?

My sheets have gone troubled and I wish to know why.

And when did we decide that beds are only made for one?

Solitude is only bliss when optional

Mother, how have we turned so bitter?

Where did we bury our rainy days?

And the perky roses we drew? Where are they?

Are they in a different garden now, Mother?

Because I miss their smell,

The baked flavor of naivety is growing in my mouth

And I crave for it every little second.

Mother, I am puzzled and oblivious.

I cannot remember where I left the easiness of life.

Is it on the top shelf? Under the bed?

It is driving me insane.

How am I supposed to leave the house without it, Mother?

It is not sweet and tender anymore outside.

It’s rough against my skin and I wish I could get it off.

I wish someone would get it off.

Did I do this to ourselves?

Did I do this to myself?

Father, whose fault is it?

This is a never-ending riddle

And I am cruel enough to solve it

As if the blame would release me from myself.

Where are the electric blue lights crawling on the walls, Father?

And the harmony of singing and the guitar calming us down

I miss it

I miss the taste of melted chocolate in my tongue

The smell of beer in yours

And the salty tears that went by

With no fear

No shame

No burden

No blame and no charades.

Father, I feel I am going mad.

I keep looking at the dining table and the empty space struggles my breathing.

Isn’t someone missing?

There used to be an extra plate, an extra glass

An extra everything.

Where are you, Brother?

Where did you go?

I recall having you here all the time

You disappeared in a flash of mist and watered eyes

And you left games to play.

Am I supposed to finish them all by myself, Brother?

I don’t mind if you get to win.

But can you stay?

I do not want to play hide and seek.

There are tents to make

Skates to ride

Songs to listen to

And a sister to talk to.

I can’t do it all by myself, Brother,

And everyone keeps telling me I have to.

I do not want to.

I do not need to.

Is this getting any harsher?

I can’t take it anymore.

You used to wipe this off of my face, Father,

And lift me up

And put me to sleep.

I do not want to be brave

I do not want to be grown

I want to be part of the furniture

And stay here as a table or a lamp

Forever doomed to your sighs and caring eyes

And not complain at all.

I want Mother to shout at me when I have a messy room

And I want Brother to be mad when I am the first to enter the shower.

And I want you, Father, to warn me about life

To tell what is and what is not

And to guide me through it all

Until I am finally prepared to stop asking questions

And start answering them.

But if you let me, I wanted to ask you one last thing.

Where am I, Father?

Where are we?