I am scared.
I’m scared because I feel alone.
I’m scared because she made me.
You grow up looking up to your role models but what happens when your role models are fucked up?
Fucked up like glass on Christmas Eve’s, the thick fog of liquor on her daddy’s lips
Fucked up like locking bathroom doors after her screams on top of screams about demons in the dark
Fucked up like,
Mom, screaming in this parking lot about your past and your present and the abyss
It hurts to see the hands that carried my body to bed when I was scared of the dark pry and loosen apart at the lethal combination you carry on heavy shoulders
It hurts to see how He, with guns for hands would blow across your face and explode
Fragments that I find in those fine smile lines that with time have become frowns
you can’t let go.
I admire you mother,
I fear for you.
Synonyms for suicidal words in casual conversation.
I have not felt gunpowder, I have felt your tongue.
A dagger, synonym, an ever growing black hole of loneliness.
I fear you, mother.
I fear to lose myself in you. I fear I love you, and can’t leave.