3 years.
That’s how long you were gone.
3 years,
I had no mother,
Though it still feels like I don’t.
You don’t know me.
My favorite color
Or my best friend,
Don’t know the nights I cried,
Depression twisting truths
And spitting lies,
All while you were away.

3 years,
My father watched my grow,
Helped me learn,
And showed my love.
All while you were away.

Sometimes,
You were simply behind a door,
Typically locked,
But when open,
I wasn’t allowed in.

If you can repeat any word
Or phrase
You said to me
Those 3 years
That weren’t
Manipulative
Or
Judgmental,
Maybe,
Though not likely,
I’d forgive you.
Forgive you for the
3 years
I locked myself away.

“You respect me!" You yelled,
But mother,
Respect isn’t given,
It’s earned.

Lies,
They plague this world.
They steal hearts,
Souls,
Lives,
Consuming the innocence of those around to hear.
But if someone told you,
Truth does all that and more,
Would you believe them?
I know I would,
I’ve seen it.
Seen attitudes change
Due to one word.
Seen my world flip
From one simple truth
That was no longer drowned by the lies.
A truth that came to then drown me,
But there you were that night.
I still feel the hot,
Sticky tears,
That rushed down my face
When I told you
“Don’t call me,”
But oh, did I desperately want to.
Later,
The pain got harder to bear.
Needles pierced my lungs,
Knives stabbing into my stomach,
While reality took it’s toll.
It was a truth a saw coming,
Like a tornado that I convince myself
Was standing still,
Though was heading straight towards me.
Something that should’ve been obvious,
But my naivety was blinding.
So in a panic,
I called.
Crying as I laid on that bed,
Perfectly centered in that room,
For the last time.
Cried to you as I explain,
And not only did you listen,
You comforted,
Soothed,
Helped,
And I will never forget the overwhelming urge
To scream
“I love you”
Over and over and over
Until my throat was raw
And the sound of my voice drowned the pain
That was tearing at me,
Shredding me
From the inside out.
Because some truths spoken
Can shatter your reality,
And destroy everything you know.
So like lies,
Truth always takes its toll.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But my mother held my arm.
He went with me,
But we went not towards the altar,
But towards the door.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And the ***** rang through the church,
Humming through the elaborate crown molding,
Carved by my ancestors.

He went,
Not beside me,
But before me,
And I watched,
As he was illuminated by the bright,
Overbearing,
Texas sun.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But I did not wear white.
My father walked me in silence,
And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar,
But for the one I would never see again.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And no veil obscured my face.
All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty,
Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow,
Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes.

My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother.
She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly,
Loudly,
Unavoidably,
And I carried her with one hand,
My sister the other,
And walked towards my future.
A future family,
Not one person more,
But one person less.
I walked,
One final time,
With him.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And I will never forget it.
Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd,
Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart,
Blurred faces staring,
Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church,
The anguished wails of my mother,
The whimpering of my sister,
And the wooden box that glided before us,
Pulling,
A string tied to our patriarch,
The pin key of our family,
Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors.

My father walked me down the aisle,
Before I had a chance to grow up.
He walked me,
Out of the church,
Away from the altar,
Never to be walked again.

I don’t love you.
Not the way they think I do.
I love the way you laugh at your own jokes,
The way your smile reaches your eyes,
But not in the way they think I would.
I love the way you rant when you’re excited,
When your brain creates thoughts into ideas
And ideas into “could be’s”
But I don’t love you.
Not in the way they say I do.
I don’t dream of wearing a white dress,
Standing by your side.
I dream of saying
“I love you,”
Without weirding you out.
Without someone freaking out
Because your a guy,
And I’m a girl,
And society says we won’t stay friends,
That we can only be more
Or nothing at all.

But I like being friends,
I don’t want anything more.
Not in the way they think I do.

I liked the way you hugged me,
But not for the reason they think.
I love the way you care,
But give me space instead of pressing.
You distract me from my pain,
My thoughts,
My worries.
And I welcome it,
But not the way they’d assume.

I love you,
But not the way they think I do.

“I’m trying,”
I whimper to you,
Tears streaming down my face.
They collect on my chin,
Dripping into my hands.
“I know,”
You’ll always reassure me,
Gentle,
Calm,
Attempting to stop my panicked breaths
With your voice.
All the moments when the flames consume me,
Or the ocean learns I cannot swim,
You’re my anchor.
My safety.
“You’re trying more than enough.”

I pretend to melt,
To ease into those words,
Because when not burning or drowning,
I savor them.
I savor when you call me perfect and gorgeous,
Because I don’t know when I will hear it again.
I pretend not to hurt,
Because I need to hear you say those things,
Selfish as it may sound.
But the flames are consuming all of me,
Water filling my lungs.
So
“I’m trying,”
Is what I tell you,
And oh,
I wish it were enough.

Blue clouds my vision,
Like some would see red.
I watch you,
Laughing,
Playing with friends,
Some yours as well as mine.
I don’t participate,
Being considered
Awful
At the game.
Left out, I sit here,
While people rotate through,
Waiting for someone to notice
Me.

I see blue;
The color of
Lose
And
Anger
It makes my vision blur,
Glossy eyes avoiding yours,
Because you don’t want them to know,
Even if it kills me.