QUIET CORNERS

It’s been seven years in these quiet corners
Intact is the state of everything 
With midnight routines of calm
The blaming whispers keep me awake 

Oh how I long to be frightened

Frightened by the sudden silence of a toddler 

Can’t wait to get eye-bags from an all-nighter

Safe from the stigma stings of the quiet corners

 

With hopes to chase after tiny third wheelers

I long for a piece of the adrenaline rush 

from the joys of motherhood

No longer can I deal with the unending hopes

 

Basking in the paparazzi from womb watchers

You all make my womb feel like an ex convict

My womb, once full of hope and cheer,

Now empty, like a hollow sphere