Sitting at the turf of my precipice,
I see the grievance, in the faces of the eels, and I try to eat them raw, as if they are waxen desserts.
We moved out of our kitchen, a long back.
Ah, the Correction:
She kicked us out, from where all the spices and smiles used to cook.
I’m slowly forgetting the taste of her cinnamon kisses,
But I don’t blame her,
I always exhibited the opposite attributes of a maverick, twirling on the vortex, appeared in her eyes, that she used to create, at the snap of her fingers and I loved to be drawn, every time in them, with her nimble expressions, and cadence in the whistle.
She enjoyed being the commander and she left her initials on my hips, by getting me clasped on the vise, that I could never dare to ask: why she needed in the kitchen?
For I was afraid:
I might goad her to hew something out of me.
I strongly believed that one day, I will get us out from this bedlam, and all the torture that I’m going through will enact a pivotal role in our redemption.
With the passing time,
I became the reception of all the things she wanted to throw, when she got really mad, because of the noise pollution created by the humans around and this madness kept increasing day by day, for she was not accustomed to be around humans.
I was the only human she used to love;
We even had the blast in the past while making out in the bathtub.
She liked being in the water, and me too, but with her.
Then her desires to be submerged kept increasing, and one day she hit me with something, that I can assume, was made of chromium by looking at the hole it created,
And spoke for the first time
Pointing at the bathtub:
“I want plethora of it!”
My heart sank in sadness, when I realized:
I can’t keep this mermaid anymore
I used two wordle prompts (#28 and #30) to create this. The 20 words are: Cadence, Maverick, Nimble, Turf, Initials, Waxen, Eel, Vise, Goad, Hew, Pivotal, Mermaid, Bedlam, Blast, Chromium, Plethora, Cinnamon, Vortex, Kitchen and Reception.