I feel like this is all I write about,
and it makes me sad,
it makes me want to stop writing,
but it also makes me want to keep
writing.

I don't write to please anyone but
myself. If I did what would be the
point of writing? It is for me.
And if others are kind enough
to read my words and enjoy them,
then I am grateful to have written
them. And if they do get annoyed
that I keep writing about the same
subject over and over and over again,
then they may kindly stop reading
my poetry.

But look here, I have
somehow managed to create this
arrangement of letters and words to
be about something entirely different.

I should be proud of myself. But I am
not. Because if I'm honest with myself,
then I would know that this is just a poem
talking about how I should no longer write
poems about you, making this very poem
about you too. I just can't win.

I am scared.
I cannot escape this nightmare
that you have created. Why is
it following me everywhere I
go? Why can't you just be gone.
Why did you have to exist at all?
All you did was **** me up in the
head. I was forever changed by
what you did to me, by what no
one did to fix it. No one tried to
make it better. No one cared enough
to make you go away. No one locked
you up. No one threw you out. You
were allowed to stay. In the place
that I am supposed to feel the
safest, the house of God. You were
allowed to stay. Even though you
****** me up. They call that religion?
They think they can point fingers at
me because I lost most of my faith?
Is it religious to let someone take a piece
of your soul, to violate them and not
be reprimanded? That is what you call
religion? Do you think He would look
down upon you and praise you for that?
Do you think He would blame me for
turning my back on the church when the
church was supposed to be there for me?
I do not think He will think any less of me
for the decisions I have made based upon
what has been allowed by His church to
happen. I think, when my time comes and
my days on Earth are completed, that He
will not only open his golden gates for me,
but also joyously welcome me with open
arms and His loving embrace.

The way you disappear
scares me half to death
because it is not just from
me, I know that for sure.

You lose yourself completely,
you go blank, idle, nothing.
I wish that I could make the
numb drain from every inch
of your being and fill in the holes
with sunshine because that is what
you like.

*sunshine and saltwater

Your voice is the flutter of butterfly wings on a warm spring day,
your hair is the willows that sway in the cool summer breeze,
your spine is the icicles on the coldest winter day,
your touch is the crisp air in autumn.

You are the seasons that comfort me,
knowing they are always going to come,
knowing that the weather will always be the same
when it is that time of year.
You will be there, just like the seasons,
and with each season comes a different kind of beauty,
a beauty that you surely possess.

You are the snow, you are the crisp, golden leaves,
you are the flowers that bloom so bright,
and you are that summer breeze that caresses me at night.

Walking into a familiar shop,
I had seen it before in other dreams,
a little old lady smiled at me.

I said I was just looking,
she said it was fine,
didn't notice a wicked gleam in
her eye.

I looked at the bag
I had looked at before,
the price was the same,
it was too much, I swore.

I looked back to my left,
and over my shoulder,
glanced at some pictures
that were not much older.

Wait. A closer look.
Each one. One after the
other after the other after the other.
A sea of photos of a strawberry blonde.

Bathing suits and beaches,
dresses and weddings,
ponytails and pigtails,
over and over and over.

Three years old,
four years old, five, seven, ten.
Where the **** did she get them?

Sweat beading on my body,
though I'm still in shock,
I fall back from the wall,
was this done just to mock?

I look over at her,
that wicked old one,
who looked so nice and sweet before
all of this ****.

I looked at her and through
those ******* messed up
eyes I only saw him.

'Where did you get them? Where? How?'
'Where did you get them? Tell me.'
'WHERE THE **** DID YOU GET THEM? TELL ME NOW'

Body lost control. I'm on the floor.
Curled in a ball. The numb returns.
I am sobbing uncontrollably, heaving.
I cannot breathe. I cannot feel.

'Where did you get them? Where did you get them?' 'Where did you get them?'

I'm chanting to myself.

Again I cannot move, I have been there before,
away from the one who ****** me up,
those eyes are always ******* in my mind.

I look up to see my mom looking through the door,
her brow furrowed,
she knows she can do no more.

No more because they won.
No more because it's over.
No more no more no more.

I never got my answers,
They're always looking back,
those wicked smiles and evil eyes.
Those demons in my safe haven.
No more no more no more.

*Where did you get them?