Dear Child,
It was on the 13th of June
We were inside the blanket of our innocence,
We danced like naïve boys and girls
under the ecstasy
of music and wild disco lights
of cigarettes and chocolates;
of weeds, foils, bottles of white wine
and a 500 peso satisfaction bill he left lying atop of the old narra table
crumpled like

To flush you in the toilet is an option but
I would be happier if
You rot and die

rot like a piece of shrimp inside a jar-

those tiny little fingers
you adore wither
like leaves
my wilting desires
for your survival

Slowly dear child,
I gorge your flesh with selfishness
with my claws,
I knead
your breathing space

I should hear none of your
Lullabying cries-
they should not echo
Even in my dreams

For if I hear
even just
the faintest cry,
It would be
the greatest nightmare

a woman like me
could ever experience,

In the recess
of my deepest

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