I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.

i'm so sorry mom
that he did that to you
and that he's doing it to me

you deserved the world
but it was taken from beneath you
an all-star athlete
with a bright future
descended into drugs
and most importantly love

with an abused child
that grew into a hard edged man
who drank to much
and left without answers

this man we both love
but understand he will not change
he has a sickness
that will never be treated

this man we all love
has so much love
is so pure
yet was forced to be a man
at a young age of toy cars and bicycles

i feel so sorry for him
didn't graduate high school
drank at the age of 13
only to continue bad habits
his father spread to him

such a beautiful soul
that will be forever lost

i am so grateful mom

that you took me from this evil
the evil he didn't mean to create

maybe it hasn't been perfect but it's better than it would have been
away from the drugs
and the *****
and the band

you got your life together

i should understand
that maybe you don't understand
that I'm okay with my body
and i like having curves

Like we accept father for who he is
how he will never change
i should do the same with you

although this life hasn't been "perfect"
i'm still on the way to get a bachelors degree
thanks to you mom

thanks for reading me books
going to all the track meets
and letting me break down in your arms

it ****** me off when you criticize my body
and my clothing choice

but thank you mom
for not dropping into the darkness
and taking me with you

i don't completely understand alcohol
why it brings out this goofiness
and this emotion from me


why do i pour everything out
and feel comfortable with complete strangers

why can't i be like this sober
why do i feel i am judged by everyone i meet
and encounter

there are so many beautiful people
with so many beautiful pasts

yet i am so afraid to show them mine
because there are dark secrets
that even i keep from my lover

for i do not want someone to judge me
for my "sins" i have committed

i am trying so hard to be good again
that i let my young past poison everything

i am afraid of wrong-doers
and imperfect people

because i know that i **** up too
and i'm too afraid of someone hitting me again

i will not let 1 fist touch my porcelain skin
for it is both pale and fragile

the visible veins not only carry the life within me
but carry secrets that i have told no one

and i'm sorry
but i have no time to deal with people like me
because no one should deal with people like me

i lay down and the smell is in the air
i search for it
your scent

possibly amongst the pillows

but i can't pinpoint it

it fills me
maybe like a heroine addicts drug
on the contrary feels like the breaking seal of a water vein

everything explodes within me

all of my thoughts of you
my moans of your name
hand caressing my body

walking downtown
and your hardships

i can't believe
the simple scent
of the man i love
can bring so much out of me
that i can't fall asleep

I want to shout out my love
tell everyone about your wide smile
and boisterous laugh

how you shiver when you yawn
that you have a beautiful singing voice

but i can't
every time I try to explain at all
tied tongue
lost for words

because you are this great thing
and i have so much love
i can't even explain the feeling

my heart is pouring this feeling through my veins
this contentment multiplied by infinity

I want you to be the one
who makes me feel like i can move mountains
and do anything

You? this wonderful thing
believes in
me?

like really believes in me

so maybe
i can too

Why mom?
Why is it that I always have to rebuild my confidence when i'm around you

Mothers are supposed to empower their daughters
and help them to love themselves for who they are

I shouldn't be hearing that my favorite clothes are unflattering
or that you're giving me "constructive criticism" on my makeup

Why do you always ask me first when i worked out last
or if i've lost weight

why is it that i have to ask my boyfriend to pump up my self esteem
because i think i'm overweight

why do i have to convince myself that i'm beautiful
when deep down i still don't really believe it

Most of all why are you trying to morph me into this woman like you

I don't want your "modern" *******
and my **** is big and fat
men love it and so do i

so **** your modern clothes
I'm wearing high waisted shorts

because my *** looks fan-*******-tastic