Damned Endearment
blood is thicker than water, they say
but to me, they are the same
i feel the blood leaking out of my heart
like liquid pain boiling through my skin
and
tears gushing out of my eyes
like a lonely river trying to find its way home
each of these,
they feel the same
both come from their own places of hurt
ever since i was a child
i learned to treat each as if they did not exist
in fear that mother would come back
i learned to become a stone whenever
she was near
i was a garden decoration
stiff and perfect in a bed of weeds
trying to not let the cracks show
like our happy dollhouse family
i learned to not speak to others
about my silent pain
because all of my friends had happy mothers
they wouldn’t feel the same
but i guess being tucked in at night,
and always being kissed goodbye
would be kind of nice,
wouldn’t it?
why would they want to listen to some
unwritten tragedy?
as i got older, and
began to tell my tales
i was told by those who listened
that she was this way only because
she Loved me.
that is always what hurt the most.
i guess those who told me this
were only trying to help
but instead it made some of my strength crumble
and my cracks grow deeper
because if she only did this because she Loved me,
then that would mean
it was all my fault.
i was the one who made her
call me worthless
and ask why i was born
i was the one who made her
give up on her dreams
and raise three children instead
i was the one who made her
wish she had never agreed
to bear me
i was the one who made her
regret everything
including her life
and i was the one who made her
torture me until i wondered
if i even wanted my own.
but that’s the thing about Love.
Love is not a word,
phrase
or comment
Love is a series of
repeated actions,
proving that it does exist,
like the sun or stars
and
will always shine no matter what
Love never leaves you in the darkness.
it is a constant flame
that melts away your cracks
and
makes you feel complete
Love is something that makes your heart feel
the way a plate of fresh baked cookies smell
or
the way the sun shines after a foggy morning
Love isn’t an excuse.
Love doesn’t even know
what the word because means
because Love doesn’t need a reason to exist.
it just does.