you told me your biggest fear was ending up like your dad. that all your hardest work will only lead you to stare into the mirror and watch as it cracked from your knuckles because all you see staring back at you is him.

you said he caused pain,
he caused destruction.
every moment was a ticking time bomb and i can’t help but cower, i can’t help but want to hold a knife to my chest — even when i panic on which side the blade should be pointed. where it should be buried.

my hands shake and match the tempo of your anxiety, you tell me your fears and i drink them up like liquor that makes me want to purge it back out.

because when the time comes
and you have me by the heart,
i cower. you have me feeling as if i’m smaller than you and i can see you like it. a good person does not harm the ones they love, you bruised me way too many times yet broke your own fingers to make sure none pointed at you. you’re always upset, and i’m always sorry.

and maybe thats something you need to hear. because baby, you’re just like him.