LatinosUSA

«Missing You» by Miriam Costa

You asked me for a hug on that empty white room.
The walls were white, the floor, the tube however, that came out from your arm was transparent. I hated that place but I never meant to say that I was goint just for him… so he could see other colour and wisper his new rap for like 15 seconds. All was white still, not so pale like he was.

Trying to disguise something between few hope and death is difficult for me, but I had promiss him before, when we were kids and made lots of sounds and rap, that I would not let you in that white room. We call the white room the hospitalizations room, a place dedicated to treating and if you are lucky, leaving… I was trying to hide myself, mixing me up with your tremors and mad phrases. I close my eyes and you closed yours, holding hands to leave our body and just float to our childhood.

Was time for me to get out.
You screamed out loud… never saw that before… outside the white room, right on the stairs I cry so much thinking about how much I would miss you.

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Author’s Bio

Miriam Costa – born in Luanda, Angola, arrived in Brazil at the age of 3, loves to read and eventually studied fine arts. Her writings are always a mixture of her drawings and digital collages. She participated in group and individual exhibitions. She created poetry zines and have her own brand of skateboard shirts. Published 8 books in partnership with international writers, a member of the readers’ club in her city and also does volunteer work with children. She collaborated with columns in law and business consultancy newspapers with a «feel» of humor. She participates in poetry collectives and creates independent album covers. Graduated in radiology, fashion, she is a bilingual translator, editor of Masticadores Brasil, also a writer for CronicArte magazine. Photography and poetry is in her soul.