Jia tariq

Biography

I've been writing since I was younger, and I enjoy to do so when I am depressed or stressed

Samples

I remember the first time I held your hand-it barely grasped one of my fingers On my warm chest, I held you close-the tightening grip of a mother. And at that time you nuzzled into me, creating a feeling that still lingers. You had a presence, even then that was irreplaceable by any other. My first one, who I had created a special place for-burrowed deep within me I’d been told by many while you were growing up but I still had failed to see. You see, a mother will never turn a cold shoulder to their kin, And on that day, as you twitched and turned, I should’ve known therein. Your hair used to sit, jet black, right above your shoulders, As you would show off your pearl white teeth. As once I again I was blinded by the love that burned within me. You would wake up in the night and tug on my gown, and as I would turn to face you, You’d curl your lips as a desperate cry for attention. And I would’ve, as a mother, loved you selfishly as I did, If the woman who lived next door hadn’t warned me of such infortune. It crept up in my head each night, but your smile was enough to melt it. But fast forward a couple of years- maybe 10- maybe 20. By the time you were able to walk and talk on your own, And I was no longer a variable in your life-tossed aside like an old shirt. I think I should’ve used that as a lesson, and turned away from you, And it would’ve been easy, if I hadn’t created such a compassionate bond. But I had worn you again, un-intentionally at first, but then again like an old shoe, I had created more memories, ancient, of which I soon become fond. But I didn’t learn then, and still won’t now, as you’d storm up to your room locking the door behind, Id long again for the moment I held you close to me- when had you grown up so big? Unrecognisable, you had become to me, like a stranger in my own house. And then, you’d skip dinner, and I’d be on my own on the cold wooden table in the kitchen, Then I’d long again to feel the sensational relief of seeing you for the first time. Your shoulder grew cold against me, unlike me, who showered you with love. Unconditionally-no-I should’ve created a condition. I should’ve stopped you nesting into my heart. And at that moment I would wonder if I was to you what you are to me. But then, your shouting voice threw away any hope I had, your drunken mood, As you’d come home late again. I’d wait until 8 till you’d slowly drag home, Hording a dozen more lies to say to me again. I smiled at you, but your foul angry mood swayed me. And I longed again for the first time you grabbed my hand. Now you come in my room, where I sit flicking through photos, And you look at me longer than you have before. I stare through those lifeless eyes, and question what the beast in front of me has done to my child. But I’m met again by your side which brings no more than despair, As you cling onto my arm, and for a moment I think I have you back again, Until you start dragging me towards the front door, Out you push me, like a beggar I rumple up my old bones, And look at you one last time and long for the feeling of a first again…

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