How come you left my mom?
Was she too sweet,
like the sugar she saturated your coffee in,
Or was she too kind,
letting you buy every
little boy play station game?
She warmed you like the sun,
penetrating your skin,
tanning your insides.
Was she too bright, beautiful,
How come when I see you, I still smile?
As my family curses your name, I smile.
When they tell me “He’s not a good father” , I defend.
their nostrils flare, but I
How come I forgave you so **** easy?
Maybe, so I can forgive myself,
for not being daddy’s little girl.
Not being able to gently step on your feet,
dance around the house.
For not being my sister, who has a father,
Enveloping her in wave after wave
of calm ocean love.
How come you haunt my dreams?
Voice calm, forgiving,
whispering: “I love you.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“I miss you.”
soft whispers of broken promises echo
How come you stayed for him?
Was it because you knew
you could play baseball with him?
Or was it because when he turned 15,
you could teach him
how to pick up girls like dandelions?
How come boys break promises?
Not just boys, men.
Men like you,
Who tell 10-year old’s that
their present is on the way:
“It’s in transit.”
“It’s in the mail.”
“I just shipped it.”
“It should be there.”
“Happy Birthday Honey.”
How come I look for guys like you?
They say I’m “asking for it.”
Wanting to ****** up every simple, soft
Maybe they’ll keep me
‘til you return.
You were my first definition
of a prince,
How come I don’t trust anyone,
even that nice boy swaying silently to the song
that I adore, or that one who helps me
through dreadful chemistry lectures?
How come you text “I love you”?
When I’m alone, crying
over the latest breakup,
Submerging myself in heart wrenching
Drowning in the comforting
lyrics. The soft ping of a text,
A heart emoji
I love you.
Your texts have become another promise.
I have begun to count down the days
until those words are murmurs
And three words become
How come, I still say “I love you too”?
How come you walked away before I could even walk?
How come my last name still follows me around like a brand?
How come you moved so ******* far away?
How come I believed you year after year,
Where are my presents,
Wrapped quickly in promises,
stamped “return to sender”
This would be a spoken poem