Prose

Washed Blood

What happens when you stop recognizing the person who was born into your hands, whom you have known your entire life? What happens when every step in his direction puts another set of hundred miles in between, distancing you even further than you already were? How do you keep your heart in one piece when all his looks cuts even deeper than his words? Do you ever stop wondering about what changed it all? Was it something you did or was it just fate diverging you in different directions, probably, never to reconcile again?

Do you ever get used to it?

Photo by Matheus Viana from Pexels

16 thoughts on “Washed Blood”

  1. “What happens when you stop recognizing the person who was born into your hands, whom you have known your entire life?” Wow… this is a mind-bender for me. First I thought it’s the narrator talking about their child, then I thought it was the narrator talking about a parent or sibling… as for the rest, in any relationship where there is deep caring, I can completely, wholeheartedly relate. Much love to you, dear A., and I’m *always* so thrilled whenever you’re back online… much as I would wish for anyone to find the right divide. :)) ❤️

    Liked by 2 people

    1. You are right, dear, the narrator talks about younger sibling but again the strains can be about any relationship which has deep care and love at the bottom.
      Thank you so much, Lia, for your always so lovely comments and support. They truly are my treasure. 💕🙏🌻🌈

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Ah, love having the question answered, thank you!! And very much likewise, the feeling is mutual, many times over. You’re wonderfully supportive and it makes a big difference to me. 🙏🙏❤️

        Liked by 1 person

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