My Son Part 3: Half of Her Life

“The being he’s been waiting for has just opened her eyes.
There was a feeling of dread, but not a look of surprise.
He knew her at first site but she did not know his face,
He had his work cut out for him, her memory to replace.
A man who was a monster had perfected an art,
to bring back the dead and do it with just one body part.
Her husband had brought in a container of red,
and there was no touch of guilt or second thought in his head.
He would have her love,
the one who went away.
The one who made a promise,
half of her, the body, but the mind decayed.
And as the weeks past, he fed her the past.
But the scars on her wrists were given no fact,
He said she must got them from broken windows or barbed wire,
the blood covered furniture and clothes went into the fire.
She ate it all up and her husband was content,
He didn’t have it all, but it was worth what he spent.
But every so often, his memory took him to,
the horrible consequences of the life he would choose.
But he would still have her love,
and he would get her back slowly.
She would forget her promise,
half of her, man-made, and surely unholy.
But she always grew restless when he wasn’t around.
When she closed her eyes and tried hard no explanation was found.
Then wandered into a room where the standing mirror was stashed,
and too her surprise, it wasn’t her in the glass.
But it looked as if it was a younger look-a-like.
And the image moved it lips, spoke and had a voice like a spike.
She would show off her arms and reveal no scars,
and she’d tell her of the real reason that her memories depart.
“He just wanted your love;
did he mention your son?
I can see not by the look in your eyes”
Half of her, other in the mirror, she couldn’t shun.
She confronted her husband with the story she heard,
and he just stood still and spoke not a word.
And without even thinking twice gathered all the mirrors,
and locked them in the basement to hide from his fears.
And in fury, he jumped on her, strangled her, bashed her head.
But you know you can’t kill what is already dead!
The tears in his eyes, he couldn’t bare that she knew the truth,
He passed out from exhaustion and she took him to his room.
He just wanted her love,
and now it was falling apart.
But she wandered to the basement of mirrors,
Half-and-half brought together from the dark.
He awoke and the memories came back,
so slow he had to catch his breath.
But he heard laughing in the dining room,
He rushed into to see pictures of a bride and groom.
His lovely wife regained her mind,
and forgave her love for she knew he meant right.
And they sat together and laughed without shivers,
looking for hours at wedding pictures.
He just wanted her love,
and he had found it at last.
The deeds may have been in sin,
More or less, who’s to guess?
With or without a son,
they sealed their love with a kiss.
Because the promise was built on their love,
two halves, sown together, at the wrists”.

© Delia Ross. 2010

My Son Part 2: The Note Beneath His Pillow

“My darling husband, I can’t look at your face,
I made a promise but it went to waste.
The lovely day when we became one,
and the lovely night when we planned our son.
But now I’ve never felt so low before,
I don’t want to look in your eyes anymore.
I saw your pain when you heard the news,
we asked God for another but he must have refused.
And all I wanted was to carry your name,
now I hide my head in shame.
And your face that day in my mind remains;
I’m not even a woman anymore.

The one that I knew could carry my soul,
the one who could shield me from the cold.
You lent me all that you had inside,
I tried to give him to you, you know that I tried.
I saw you crying as I came to,
Losing myself was all I could do.
I never looked right at you again,
I regret it now, since you needed a friend.
And all I wanted was to carry your name,
now I hide my head in shame.
And your face that day in my mind remains;
I’m not even a woman anymore.

And I was wallowing and rolling in the pool of blood,
The Rivers that originated from me would flood.
All I tasted and felt was the death,
of my baby boy who would never have breath.
I cried for you, baby; I cried for you in fright,
Years went by in that one horrid night.
Would we ever be the same? Would we ever smile?
Would I ever get over it? Am I too fragile?
And all I wanted was to carry your name,
now I hide my head in shame.
And your face that day in my mind remains;
I’m not even a woman anymore.

Things are a little more clear now;
there is a sense of peace in the solution I found.
Strange I choose to bathe in blood;
again, it might as well be mud.
And soon I’ll rest in the dirt with the worms,
and never again feel this heart that burns.
I may be letting you down again,
but it’s only one more time, you were my very best friend.
And all I wanted was to carry your name,
now I hide my head in shame.
And your face that day in my mind remains;
I’m not even a woman anymore.”

© Delia Ross. 2010

Stay tuned for: My Son Part 3: Half of Her Life

My Son Part 1: The Promise

WARNING: The following story contains explicit gore, imagery, & death. It is intended for an older audience. Though it is not age restricted, caution should be taken when reading, as it may cause triggers in some due to the sensitive context and subject matter. Proceed with caution.

My Son Part 1: The Promise

“The bloody note,
that his lost wife wrote,
He found under his pillow,
when in the afternoon he awoke.
His heart grew weak as he read her final thoughts,
her last words about the son she lost,
and the promise that she broke.
But it sends him right,
back to that lovely night,
when they felt each other’s love,
and gave each other light.
But he tears up when he remembers the deed,
the love he felt then, seems now like greed.
Her promise he would recite.
‘Our life together, darling, has just begun,
And I would be honored if you had our son.’
He was her man and she was his lady,
and so he asked her to have his baby.
Neither hesitated.
She lay on the floor,
as the blood poured,
she felt the one inside,
would live no more.
And she was crying for help and she called everyone.
Thinking that someone could save her son.”
The promise lay on the ground torn.
The shame she had,
when he took her hand,
in the hospital room,
but he made no demand.

And when he first entered, she wouldn’t even lock,
her eyes with his, she just turned toward the wall.
Thinking the promise, she would damn.
But she looked in time,
with her tearing eyes,
she wanted to see him,
the one she was denied.
And when she did, her world was shattered,
And put in submission.
It was black and bloody and in the fetal position.
Her promise was a lie.
‘Our life, my darling, had just begun.
I only need my girl and I don’t need a son.’
He said this, but he could not hide his pain,
He knew that their love would never be the same.
Neither reiterated.
And alas one evening,
while he was dreaming,
she’d lay in the tub,
her wrists slashed and bleeding.
And when he saw the result his heart receded,
it tore apart when her wrists stopped bleeding.
The promise she was relieving.
And after the police went,
And after the trial,
After the search of his house,
And long after denial,
That’s when he found her letter of regret.
Buried under his pillow so he couldn’t neglect.
But then arose a devious smile.
‘Our life, my darling, has just begun.
All I have to do is save some of your blood.’
He knew a man who could restore her life
half of this woman would still be half of his wife.
Shockingly, he never hesitated.”

© Delia Ross. 2010

Stay tuned for Part 2: The Note Beneath His Pillow & Part 3: Half of Her Life