For three years she has moved me
Through the wonders of her eyes.
Flowing wells that glisten,
And beckon within.
     Her sudden movements
     Change direction
     To challenge or outwit
With the wonder of her eyes.

Furtive corners in the waters
Of her eyes, looking out:
A blink, a wink or shying tear
Disturbs ripples in my mind.

     My heart's flow rises
     When she smiles:
     She is the well-spring of  my life
With the wonder of her eyes.

Her hands direct the steerage
Of her course.
Sandboxes swell and dip,
And change to wonderous seas.
Her real dimensions are
Refracted, movements and directions,
Then defracted from my sight.

Imagine, her young colours
Looking out
Through the wonders
Of her eyes.

I call you for dinner
at the roast beef you glare
you sulk at the table
and kick at my chair
"I don't want it" you cry
"I hate veggies" you moan
but a young boy can't live on Mcnuggets alone!

You call me a meanie
you say it's not fair
to make you eat green stuff
"I won't eat it, so there!"

You hunch up your shoulders
arms crossed, lips shut tight
your stare is defiant
as you fight for your right
to eat what you want to
and do as you please
my 5 year old rebel
with scabs on both knees

You'll eat it eventually
and I'll secretly laugh
'cause round two is coming
I'm running your bath!

When I was just a little girl,

naive as hell,

I was under your spell.

Life was simple, it was fun...

But that was when I was young.

Now I'm older.

Now I realize.

Now I see the pain in your eyes.

I used to think it was normal every night,

when clock struck 5, and I peered in those bloodshot eyes.

Lying in bed with me you'd cry, cry cry.

Do you know the feeling?

You know, the one when someone you love is in pain.

You, yourself , are a helpless child, you can't do a thing.

Now you lay, passed out, snoring a storm, in your own bed.

I.

All.

Alone.

I lay there, observing the wall.

The sweet taste of a tear, creeping between my closed lips.

Her pain is your pain.

Your pain is mine. 
 
This pain can't be contained.

How can you continue this vicious cycle?

Don't you realize that you were once as I?!?

I don't want my life to be a play, please don't be my queue.

At your age I'll know what to do.

I'm determined to beat this cycle of abuse.

My children will prosper, they will love.

They will not smell ***** when I give them hugs.

All I can say is thank you.

Thank you for teaching me what not to do,

I will try harder because of you.

His high intellect was a whip and a chair to keep the lion of your growing independence at bay.
Cowering child,
You roared your defiance against proud deaf ears.
Now a beast grown with a pride of your own,
Your let sound your growl,
Your angry howl,
But within that defiant song can be heard the whimper of the cub that just wanted to be heard.
Stop it.
Listen and speak softly for your voice carries and is heard.
You are not your father.
You are your own man.

Two strangers exchange eternal vows. Neither lovers yet fully born.
You were more a stranger to yourself than to her.
In you she sees a mirror spirit,
More lost than found,
Lacking an identity to call your own. Her passion, a hot storm built after a lifetime of suppression,
Is released by another man.
In this and in him she begins to find herself.
You think you lost her, yet she was never yours.
Oaths sworn by the wraiths of the beings you were yet to become are not considered binding by any council of lovers,
Lost or foresworn.
You are not her husband.
You'll place your ring on another hand.

Your eyes swore to possess her as her faery beauty woke within you the imp of desire.
Fey creatures know there's magic in *******.
Her every whispered breath was poetry as you pressed your stiff need against her back.
There was honesty between you even as you lied to yourselves,
Just one more kiss, another **** another glass of wine.
No amount of pleasure could bury the wrong.
It was not your lips she kissed goodnight,
Nor your smile which greeted her in the morn.
You were her paramour,
Her poet,
Her escape from another man.
She belongs to another man.

It was so loud, the first nine months. Back then, I could feel it. Every thump, every beat and every flutter of your heart. The sound of your voice still resonates through me my mind. Your touch, softer than any fabric known to mankind. Your nervous eyes, staring helpless down into mine. The comfort of hear heartbeat, next to mine, eases my discomfort; hear heart, is my most precious time piece. Every beat marked the passing of another moment, that brought me closer to life. As a result of the most unbearable pain, that unselfish sacrifice, resulted in my birth. I guess that's why they say love is pain. Now, instead of carrying me, you hold me in your arms; cuddled, loved, protected... your deep, dark, eyes, till this day, are my favorite shade of brown. The sound of your tender voice, is my favorite sound. I wish I would have never grown; cause before, when I cried, and you picked my up, it felt like you would never let me down; until everything was okay, or my bottle was ready. I guess things have changed now, I'm a little bit heavy -  but, that doesn't mean I'm no longer your baby.

why does
my mother assume
when i write in first person,
the words on the
page
automatically
make up
a biography.

in this case,
however,
she probably should assume.