Being drunk doesn't excuse it.  
"You didn't know what you were doing."
"I love him, he's my son."  
You don't remember what you did.
Do you know he still does?

The purple in his cheeks.
Lips split.
Eyes scared.

Look at what you have done.
Harmed your own son.  

It hurts when he laughs.
His cheeks sting as he cries.
Back jolts up as it touches the back of his chair.

Is it fair?
The boy scared of wearing a belt.

It reminds him of his father.
The way he cornered him, till he was a pleading and crying mess.  

The smell of alcohol lingering in the air.
It makes him sick.
He remembers.

He runs his hands up his left arm.
Cigarette burned holes scattered.

He couldn't take one more beating.
He didn't know how.

He tried his hardest.
As he closed his eyes.

He tried suicide.
He tried it all, the pills, the windows.

He couldn't do it.
Leave his mother and brothers behind.

He stands tall, but not the tallest any more
Hazel eyes define every other feature on his face
His hair is like mine
A mess of untamable curls like our father had in college
Calloused fingertips reveal every late night spent
Playing his guitar
Learning and writing songs alike
His voice is a spectrum of booming frustration to gentle advice
Afternoons after school
and late nights after breakups were spent belting at the top of our lungs
all of the songs we only sang in front of each other
When he was in high school
He was a safe I could keep all my secrets with
The ones I wouldn’t dare tell mom and dad
and now
I can only make deposits on holidays and seldom weekends
Over anything else
I love how he trusts me with his secrets
Making just as many deposits as I do if not more
Though he is only a call away
It’s not the same as having him down the hall
It’s not the same
It’s never going to be the same

i was told i could be anything,
so i chose to be a feminist
because
when i suggested my father help with the laundry,
my mother told me i was crazy.
because
meghan tranior's "all about that bass"
is telling bigger girls to be comfortable in their own skin
because skinny girls already do, right?
because
i'd like to make as much as my male coworkers.
because
i was laughed at for wanting to be a doctor instead of a housewife.
because
people look at me strange when i say i don't want kids.
because
when i gave a speech about feminism in my english class,
i was called a man-hater.
because
"my shoulders distract the boy's education".
because
my mom shouldn't have to worry
about what goes in my drink at concerts.

i will be a feminist until
i can tell my boyfriend
"no babe, i'd rather watch the movie"
and i am not told
"you're depriving him of his needs".
until
my body is my body.
until
i no longer have to carry pepper spray on a keychain.
until
women in foreign countries can vote and drive.
until
woman means human.
until
we understand **** culture
and feminism isn't just about women,
it's about humans.

You are an oxymoron;
happy and sad,
bittersweet,
a fine mess,
and clearly misunderstood.

Being with you
is sweet torture
that leaves me
wanting more.