You.

You. You beautiful demon. I fell for you. I believed in you. I guess I thought I could somehow change you. That was my fault. From the beginning, I guess I always knew the outcome; I knew I would eventually break. Be broken by you. But I let it happen anyways. I let myself fall for you even though the fall would cause me to shatter.You. You beautiful demon. You caused me so much pain, but I only seemed to hold on to the good moments- the times you held me in your arms, the long nights when we would talk about nothing and everything, the sweet kisses. But the arms which held me were also the arms that bruised me. I've tried to mask the bad memories with the good memories, but there just aren't enough. The worst part about all this isn't you, it's me. I keep thinking you'll change. I keep forgiving you. I keep believing you'll never do it again. I keep believing you'll stop raising your hands towards me just as much as you raise a bottle to your lips.Before you changed, you once told me that you would protect me from whatever I was afraid of. But what if the only thing I'm afraid of is you?

Hope

I was abused.

I am abused.

I am bruised, but I am unbroken.

I am brave but I am unspoken. 

I am bold but afraid of what he might do today.

Is he mad today?

Sad today?

Will he hurt my mom today?

I try so hard to cope, but I cannot do this alone.

Lord please tell me why he makes me want to die.

Lord help me realize you’re in control even when there’s tears in my eyes.

I can’t do this anymore.

Not without you.

Lord tell me there’s a reason for this, tell me your love is true.

Because no matter how hard I try I know his is a lie.

I am bruised but I am unbroken, though every time I speak, it’s my mom who’s heartbroken.

Because she knows my dad will just fight her harder.

How am I supposed to defend her when we’re afraid of becoming martyrs?

I am brave but unspoken. 

Maybe that’s where I’m meant to be, because no matter what I say, my father still cannot see.

He can’t see the hope we have.

He can’t see the love we crave, not from him but from the one person who gives us hope.

The one person who gives me hope.

I am bruised, but I am unbroken.

With Christ I am unspoken because I am spoken for.

I am hopeful of the nail pierced hands that hold me close and tell me “it’s okay”.

He, not my father, is the reason I live to see another day.

I am bruised, but I am unbroken, for Christ was broken for me.

Vodka Kisses

The bittersweet taste of a kiss will never evade my mind. Empty affection has filled my heart I don’t know what is real and what is fake. Someone like my father will make you question everything. Everything you feel, everything you want, don’t want. Every kiss he gave satisfied me the same way a shot of vodka would. The warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, the happiness and feeling of being a bird over the deepest parts of the Grand Canyon, but the feeling eludes from my mind as I become sober and realize that the feeling is as fleeting as my dad’s happiness that quickly turns to anger in a heartbeat, I am used to it. Yet I hold on to the good so it can erase the bad. I crave his kisses more and more even though I know my eagle wings will turn into 50 pound weights as I plummet to the depths of the earth. You’d think I’d know better. I’ve gotten used to knowing what a kiss shouldn’t feel like that I don’t know what it should. That’s why I’m scared that I will not be good enough for you. When you kiss me, I know I’m not supposed to feel fear or disappointment, but that is what I am accustomed to. I am accustomed to such negative feelings I have forgotten what positive feelings are like. All I remember are the 50 pound weights. So when I do not look like I love you when you kiss me, know that I’m trying. The bittersweet taste of vodka kisses are still present, know that I’m trying to get rid of it. Know that I will soon be victorious, but right now I’m sorry. I’m sorry I cannot love you the way you love me, but I’m trying. The bittersweet sting of vodka kisses will soon fade and be replaced with your kisses that are sweet as honey. Until then, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m a work in progress, and I’m sorry my kisses are not as good as yours. They probably never will be because your love for me is unfathomable, but I’ll try. Because I don’t want to lose you like I lost my father. I can’t. I'm sorry.

A Letter From an Aborted Child

You didn't know for 10 weeks that I was there
And when you did find out
So what?
It's not like you actually cared.

Mistake
A choice
A cancer
Call me what you will
It doesn't change the fact that now I'm laying still.

Laying still on a tray;
I will soon be in a bin
Because you ripped me from your womb
It has now become a tomb
Of memories that could've been

You didn't feel my pain?
You couldn't hear my cries?
I needed you to save me but you didn't even try.

What did I do wrong, mommy?
Is this what I deserve?
Now that you've made your choice it cannot be reversed.

I want to say I love you, but my vocal chords are snipped
I wanna run to you for refuge but my legs, my legs, are ripped.

Ripped from the tiny body that looks just like you.
"It's only a fetus. It has no life."
You thought that this was true

And though you were wrong
You did not feel remorse
You went about your day
And let life take its course

I'm glad you have a life mommy!
I wish I had the choice to see
What the world is like
But, mommy,
You made that choice for me.

I know you were scared
And that your life was no ball
But how can you determine that having a sad life was worse than having no life at all?

It was not my fault that I was conceived
And I thought it was your responsibility
To care for me, nurture me with loving affection.
But how could I have felt love when you treated me like an infection?

Unfortunately, because of you,
I didn't live very long.
Everyone said it was your choice
But, boy, did you chose wrong.

Now I am dead. A helpless child.
You should take a bow.
You're life's back in order.
Are you happy now?