What if You Never Knew?

Remember when I made her smile?

Lips parted like you haven’t seen for some time.

Those thoughts

The ones that plagued her mind.

Those that caused her to pick up the yellow bottle. Empty it.

Leave fate up to God’s will.

Unnatural separation of the skin.

Red.

Anywhere she could feel it.

Arm,

Stomach,

Wrist.

You tried to pray it out of her.

“It’s God’s will. He will cure you.”

Belief trumped love.

Religion trumped family.

A hole lay

Deep within that which kept her alive.

A void

For support.

Remember when I made her smile?

Lips parted like you haven’t seen for some time.

A filling

Of aid.

All was looking up,

Until you looked down at my wrist.

A single woven bracelet.

Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Purple.

You told me I was this way becayse my dad wasn’t in my life.

“We left him.”

You told me I was this way because my mom didn’t love me enough.

My mom?

A reason so false.

By to you so true.

“She loves me for all that I am.”

Words at the tip of my tongue.

Trying to escape.

I swallowed them.

My head began to speak

Words I just destroyed.

My mom?

How about you?

You’re a mom.

She’s your daughter.

Your heart couldn’t beat enough

To produce that love for her.

Mom mom’s can.

Why can’t you?

It’s God’s will to save her.

Purify here.

Eighteen years.

She hasn’t been cured.

You took it upon yourself.

Sent her far away to anti-gay camp.

Just so they could explain

“God would never make you that way.”