broken childhood
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Your hands like acid had blistered my skin
Every time you’d touch me your prints stained me again
Though it may hurt for a moment
I’ll appreciate the scars
I first recognised it as an infant, becoming accustomed to this trait.
Sporadic bursts of love and laughter were sure signs
this was meant to be.
Then monumental loss replaced it with a scourge of darkness
Vulnerable, but strong. I stand today, sometimes in awe of whats changed.
Its good, but still lasting. I used to think it forever remained.
My heart was filled with all the mean words I wish I could of said.
To my father—
I addressed this with “to,”
Because “dear” felt wrong.
It’s hard to call someone “dear”
With a history like ours.
Once upon a time,
there lived a child with big hope and little dreams.
The child wanted to see the world and find that dream.
Once upon a time,
there was a teen with big dreams and little hope.
Click, running from the light
Behind the paintings, and up the wall
Like Peter Pan’s shadow
Making my skin crawl.
Same skin, same blood
Same place we came home
Same, woods creeks and rivers,
And paths we would roam
Same clothes, same streets
Parent or provider?
Do you wake up to a happy home?
Do you enjoy "family time"
Do you even get famly ime?
Misunderstood? yelled at?
Atoms.
Swirling together in cluttered cosmos.
My bones are made of milk past its prime.
My blood is made of cheap strawberry wine.
A bragging pulse.
I am still alive.
Only to verify
