Now that I’ve moved on—
suddenly,
you can’t stand me.
Like my peace is your punishment.
Like my healing
is the crime
you never thought I’d commit.

Your true colors—
they don’t bleed,
they spill,
like oil on water,
ugly and slick
for everyone to finally see.

I am their mother.
Their comfort.
Their calm.
Their safe place in a storm.

But you—
you turned love into leverage.
And for what?
To hurt me?
To feel power?
To prove some twisted point?

You scream and you snap,
but it’s only the reflection
of your own actions biting back.

And while you're too busy
drowning in your rage,
you don't see it—
the silent tears,
the confusion,
the ache in their little faces
when they ask for me.

They miss me.
They need me.

They don’t understand
how a father who claims to love them
can be so blind
to the hurt he’s causing
just by keeping them away.

But I see.

I see it all.
And even through the heartbreak,
I rise—
not for revenge,
not for pride—
but for them.

For the girls.
For the love that never left.
For the mother I still am
even behind closed doors and court orders.

Because they were never pawns.
They are my purpose.

And no lie,
no tantrum,
no temporary silence
will change that truth.