a girl kissed a boy
and told him not to tell
he grew up to be a poet
with a promise kept so well
till he wrote one day a poem
that she’s found reading, but forgot
and wondered if it’s really him
and thinking that it’s not
but buried within these pages
and hidden within the rhyme
were words dripping from his lips
caressing every line
so she came in a little closer
and read it to the end
and found him in the poem
and kissed his lips again

"i wasn’t supposed to fall in love with poetry, but i did."

the words of poetry...
speak through my fingers almost as clear as my body dances...
the art i never understood
the words of poetry took me hours to understand
the freedom of poetry
it captured my soul
i fell for poetry
the freedom in poetry
its an addiction now
this feeling for poetry
the books I never got
the Maya Angelou poems that took days to decipher...
slowly fell in place
now its all i crave
to let go and let loose
poetry opened my legs
it ****** me up so hard
i squirted for poetry
i felt safe with poetry
poetry held me in its arms and told me its okay
poetry shared its tears with me
it let me cry in their lap
while it carressed my hair
poetry took care of me
poetry is like a mother
nurturing in nature
poetry is the long legged lady
picking herbs from the garden
to heal the sick
poetry is confusing
there is no true essence to poetry
sometimes its invisible or sometimes its perfectly clear
poetry is like that guy who ghosted you but he always comes back
i always feared poetry
felt too insecure for poetry
but poetry is so open
they are so kind
poetry held me and said its okay to try.
thank you to poetry.
its nice to fall inlove.

I used to have this night terror...
a man or multiple chasing me
trying to kidnap me
I watched him kidnap so many others

he reached out to me
this scary man with a disguise of female features...
I never understood
where and what created this fear of abuse
at such a young age I ran from more men in my dreams than I did in real life...
I never thought of being abused...
I have no memories.
Was I? did something happen to me?
I will never truly know. I see kids getting kidnapped from their homes in my dreams
Do I know exactly what that means? How far will they take me?
Is it simply the fears of the world, pushed into a child's brain so that it may never leave, a matter of fact.
the knowledge that should be engrained. or is it the past lives of many once lived? / an unconscious collective of memories.
just simply I will never know.

the night terrors turn to day dreams
i witness myself being choked...
i can feel someone watching me
i lose track of time
watching some take their time on me...
i cause myself tears...

i create all these fears in my head
i can see them so clear
these fears i could never control
and i never once understood

never the memories of someone i knew
all strangers
created
from a memory
i almost knew

he comes home...
we never know exactly when...
I used to think he was cheating on my mother

maybe he always was
the liquor stole him away from us
he felt safer there
he had more fun with the liquor
as each beer went down his throat he was  more and more at home
he loved us
but the beer captivated him
it stole his attention and drove him away

when hed come home during the daylight
i can see his body swaying
I used not appreciate the fact as much that he got home safely each day in that condition
his words would slur....
each end of a word colliding with the beginning of the other...
sometimes he'd get so lost in thought
lose track of time on what we were talking about...

my mother was always mad....
I used to get mad too and never knew why
until one day
i gave in...
I gave him my forgiveness the one he never asked for
you cant teach an old dog new tricks....

I tried to support him...
but its so hard
my mom is so hurt....
just wanting a husband to come home too...
not to be drunk...
to help around the house....
to be cohesive with thoughts....
to spend more time at the house than he does at the bar....

it breaks my heart...
I dont know who to support
I love them both
w
h
y is it so hard to be a daughter of a drunk....

i have no memory of abuse ever...
just the fogginess and him coming in so late...
and the screams of my parents
I used to wish they got a divorce... just so the fighting would stop.

sometimes he was never around...
but I have the good memories too...
he truly did love me..
its an addiction you know?
maybe if he had the power or the knowledge he wouldve chose us instead of the liquor.
he is my father and I love him none the less.
He is one of the coolest guys I know. A real respectable man.
A TRUE OG FROM THE OUTFIELDS OF HUMBOLDT PARK.

who never got the healing from the childhood trauma that he shouldve
he is just a man who got trapped in an addiction so hard to run away from....
just trying himself to get away from the screams of his wife... reminding him daily of all his issues.
he is just a man who is hurt his baby daughter chose her moms side and would bicker at him too...
he has to deal with both women.
who can he turn too?
other than the bottle who would never judge him.
he is just a man who is repeating the steps of his father.
who didnt know better.
who is simply following the path he knows.
he tries his best.
he tried fighting it.
just sometimes it gets too strong.
he is just a man who didn't know about therapy at a young age...
he is just a man that feared to show tears or vulnerability.
to be anything less than a man
he is just a man who got stuck in the ******* and troubles of this world.
he drinks to forget the memories.
he drinks to not worry about the issues of daily life.

I forgive him and I always will.
This is what it means to be a daughter of a drunk.