Damned Endearment

Tue, 11/07/2017 - 21:38 -- alden

blood is thicker than water, they say

but to me, they are the same


i feel the blood leaking out of my heart

like liquid pain boiling through my skin


tears gushing out of my eyes

like a lonely river trying to find its way home


each of these,

they feel the same

both come from their own places of hurt


ever since i was a child

i learned to treat each as if they did not exist

in fear that mother would come back


i learned to become a stone whenever

she was near


i was a garden decoration

stiff and perfect in a bed of weeds

trying to not let the cracks show

like our happy dollhouse family


i learned to not speak to others

about my silent pain

because all of my friends had happy mothers

they wouldn’t feel the same


but i guess being tucked in at night,

and always being kissed goodbye

would be kind of nice,

wouldn’t it?


why would they want to listen to some

unwritten tragedy?


as i got older, and

began to tell my tales

i was told by those who listened

that she was this way only because

she Loved me.


that is always what hurt the most.


i guess those who told me this

were only trying to help

but instead it made some of my strength crumble

and my cracks grow deeper


because if she only did this because she Loved me,

then that would mean

it was all my fault.


i was the one who made her

call me worthless

and ask why i was born


i was the one who made her

give up on her dreams

and raise three children instead


i was the one who made her

wish she had never agreed

to bear me


i was the one who made her

regret everything

including her life


and i was the one who made her

torture me until i wondered

if i even wanted my own.


but that’s the thing about Love.


Love is not a word,


or comment


Love is a series of

repeated actions,

proving that it does exist,

like the sun or stars


will always shine no matter what


Love never leaves you in the darkness.

it is a constant flame

that melts away your cracks


makes you feel complete


Love is something that makes your heart feel

the way a plate of fresh baked cookies smell


the way the sun shines after a foggy morning


Love isn’t an excuse.


Love doesn’t even know

what the word because means


because Love doesn’t need a reason to exist.

it just does.


This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 



great job dude! proud of u :)

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741