if i stopped eating
people would compliment me
on how thin i am
and when they saw the bruises
they pressed their mouths
shut tight
and just joked about
how clumsy i could be
with their easily uneasy smiles.
i don’t know if they
just didn’t see
or if they just weren’t
looking.
introducing him
to my friends was like
living in a ****** part of town,
having someone over
and hearing the racket of gunfire
outside of your window
and then having them say to you,
“oh, listen,
you can hear the fireworks
from here!”
and being too embarrassed
to correct them.
so maybe i’m not sure
if i believe in fireworks;
bombs are too often
mistaken for them.
but i can distinguish the difference
now, i can, and i will not
teach my daughters that when
he pushes you down in the dirt
and pulls on your pigtails
it’s because he likes you.
because when i covered up
those bruises on my body
in too-light concealer
like i’d never learned how to cover up
love-bites and tired eyes,
there was a voice in the back of
my mind that was telling me
that he only pushed me
down because he loved me.
i do not want a voice
inside my daughter’s heads
that sounds like me,
telling them that they deserve
their split lips.
i will tell my daughters to wear
boxing gloves over their manicures,
i will tell my daughters that
“love” is not an excuse,
i will tell my daughters that no one
is allowed to give you
a black eye and expect you
not to punch back harder,
i will tell my daughters
that you are not weak for getting hurt
because the weak ones
are those who let their anger
and insecurities
manifest themselves
in fists and words.
i will tell my daughters
the difference between bombs and fireworks,
i will tell them that they may sound
the same sometimes,
but fireworks don't ****
innocence.

I'm not gonna miss you,
you are always
in my mind,

when I fall asleep
at night,
I will just remember
we lay under
the same stars.

I will take a piece
of your beating heart,
and make it mine,

so when we are apart,
I will not be alone;
you may be far
but never gone.

I'm not gonna miss you,
but your kisses and hugs,
your smiles that struck
like lighting
in my eyes,

I'm not gonna miss you,
but the way
you make my days
complete,
those feelings
that always bring me
to my knees.

i've searched for your love on
every sidewalk curb.
waltzed along empty roads at midnight.
acquainted with the candle light
instilled within street lamps.
begging ever stranger for pocket change,
they never had.
and i've danced with wine,
fading into my cherry lips
the bitter taste flirting in the back of my throat.
until my mind was scattered in pieces
i threw across the bathroom floor,
but didn't bother to pick up the
next morning.
& i never found it,
eight years later and your love
is like waiting for snow to fall in july,
it's always felt like an empty gaze
out the window,
after an illusion to the ears,
the tires against the pavement,
only for my iris to
release sapphire pools of
disappointment,
because eight years later,
and your love is still a question,
that i've never asked,
because i already know the answer,
*you're not coming home