May Editor's Choice: Mónika Tóth
- ilamagazine1

- Jun 21
- 1 min read

My mother died.
Time went by after you left.
I am alive and bound to fate.
Now I write you in the quiet, where guilt and gratitude entwine. I am hurt by the way things have ended.
Her gold necklace in my nightstand drawer, Her sweet voice in my ears.
I miss you.
I cry silently.



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