It started somewhere long ago,
a moment that was forever etched inside my memory.
“I wish you would have stayed there
so that we could be a family.”
I listened with sincerity to a mother’s honest words
as I came back from visiting family that Christmas day.
It was the kind that filled me with guilt and shame. I was eight years old.
And I wished that somehow you would see
that I was worthy of your love.
You were just a young girl too
when they took everything from you.
I wasn’t your plan but still
you kept me around.
Was it for the loneliness?
Or was it out of spite?
Or maybe it was it to keep my father’s arms from holding me.
“I don’t think I can love her” you whispered to someone that night.
Not knowing that I could hear you through those paper thin walls.
If I could have drifted away right then I would have disappeared into that all-familiar nothingness that you left within my heart.
I wish you would have given me all the things you left unsaid.
(If there ever was anything.)
A new life had grown inside of you,
with someone that you held dear.
And while I never hated you, the hurt I felt was so strong.
Ten fingers, ten toes, he was a perfect angel to you.
I protected and loved him
like you wouldn’t do for me.
As time went by I began to fear
what tomorrow would bring.
The anger welled inside of you
as my hair darkened and my eyes turned green.
So you dyed my hair to match your own
and kept daddy away from me. I was eight years old.
But
the bruises you left were nothing compared to the words you left behind.
“I don’t think I can love her” you whispered to someone that night.
Not knowing that I could hear you through those paper thin walls.
If I could have drifted away right then I would have disappeared,
into that all-familiar hole you carved from my heart.
I wish you could have given me all the things you left unsaid.
(If there ever was anything.)
