Little Bo Peep
Has lost her sheep.
The big bad wolf is full
And sleeping on a bed of wool.

I remember it all, actually.
More than I'd like to have.
I remember waking up to
The scent of breakfast
I’d soon find was made for one.

I remember walking down
The stairs to lock eyes with you
As you were opening the door.
I remember the feeling
Of dread that crushed me
Under its weight as
I understood your gaze.
I don’t remember being sick.

Even though you were gone,
I remember the dark shade of
Canary that reflected from
The plate in front of me and
Tinted our home.
I don’t remember the lights being broken.

I remember hearing your voice
Call me from our room.
I remember the sharp ringing that
Endlessly reflected off the
Carpet walls of our home
Despite the silence.
I don’t remember picking up the fork.

I remember when
My senses returned to me.
When I was cured.
When the lights were fixed.
When I put the fork down.
I remember the
World refusing to warp any longer.
I remember the scent of
A breakfast made for one.
Your final gesture of kindness.
I don’t remember deserving it.

I remember sitting.
I remember eating.
I remember the
Overwhelming taste of guilt,
The taste of wetness,
The taste of salt.
I remember the taste of
French toast.
Though,
I don’t remember crying.

He was a soul
crafted by Jupiter:
limitless,
wild,
and always  
searching.

I am a soul
crafted by Mars:
driven,
unforgiving,
and unyielding.

When you shunned him
for discovering
our existence
our meaning
our joys
our sorrows,
I watched
for years
and years,
a fire inside
my blazing chest.

Now, I hold the scythe
in my hand,
untouched by the flames.
I hold your fate in my hands
and watch the flames
consume you
as you await your retribution.

I loved you like a daughter but I can't forgive you as a woman
I sure hope you burns in hell but I can't say this out loud
Cause you are my father
But you were her husband first
And I can't change that no I can't change that.

I will never forget when you called her crazy
When she put up your cheating evidence in our faces / on the dinner table.
You laughed messily and denied it cause you are spoiled
It's the same old wives tale
Someone will end it up hurting badly
And it will be always be a woman

i overburden
myself with guilt
consequence unknown

I cared to be loved,
Loved the adoring.
He swore that he did.
Oh, the great deceiving!
Was it him or me— who's at fault?
For I felt nothing, not for him, not at all.
If I were him, I too would resent me.
Then why do I not feel guilty?
He was the first to **** me with his—
Words or gaze; his entire existence
Drove me mad. There was no escaping.
If hell was earth, I was in it,
Burned holes into my body every time his two eyes found me, the lovely gazing.
I still bear the scars of thirteen.