warning: ****** assault, domestic violence

Before:
Daddy yells at momma.
He’s upset that after she made me,
she’s too tired to be with him.

I step into the kitchen
where my pieces of DNA were fighting.
I had just started going to school,
and I was too young to realize:

kids really are helpless
in situations like these.
He shoves momma’s clothes off
so quickly;

I was paralyzed.
I couldn’t move.
I didn’t know
what was going on.

My momma screams in retaliation,
“You *******! She’s right there!”
I’ll never forget the cruel glint in his eyes.
“She won’t remember.”


Then:
As a thirteen-year-old,
I was braced for war.
Momma told me:

“Remember the pain
I went through?
Your father…
Make him pay!”

You’re right,
momma.
I know what you went through.
I’m sorry I am still part of him.

Empty bottles litter the floor
just like the pictures of bodies
in my history textbook.
I stand from amongst them,

glaring at him
as he snores on the couch.
At the time, I didn’t understand why
dad would pass out so quickly sometimes.

Carefully,
I step over the bottles,
making my way over to the sleeping beast.
I’m scared he’ll wake up.

Ah! Just like in my favorite books,
the villain’s neck is wide open!
I reach my hand out,
clutching my pretend dagger—

I **** him!
With elation, I suddenly feel
the curse that tied me to him
leave.

The steady rise and fall of his stomach
brings my spirits back to reality.
Disgust twists across my face,
and I deliver a punch to his beer belly.

He sputters,
standing on his feet in a rage.
“You—
You’ll never understand what I went through!”

My instinct is to run and hide,
but I instead stand proudly,
puffing out my chest.
“I wish you were never my dad!”

I smile to myself,
giddy in hopes that
momma would stop crying
and be proud of me.

He looks hurt by it.
I’m happy!
He never comforted us!
I throw out a few curse words to try to scare him.

That only makes him angry.
“Get over ‘ere,” he says through gritted teeth.
He grabs me by the waist of my pants.
My momma is worth whatever he does to me!

After:
Preparing to graduate from college
with high honors
and a position at my dream job,
I should be happy.

Yet I can't help but realize
it has been a decade since I’ve spoken to my dad.
Mom is with a new man.
He touches me in ways dad never did.

If I was thirteen,
I’d find the ten year anniversary as a reason to celebrate.
“That much closer to removing his curse!”
I would think.

I’m even more disgusted by my mom
spending all of her time with her boyfriend
than I ever did when
dad brought women over.

If the curse is supposed to be disappearing, then
why do I feel just as empty
as I did
before?

your burden to bury
in a casket of gray.
your heart is wary
since that autumn day.

your vow was spoken
under silver moon.
your promise, broken
unexpectedly, too soon.

your farewell has come
before a given chance.
til death do us part.
you may have the first dance.

-- r.s.

I'm so *******. I AM so aggravated.
I willingly and personally decide to be sedated.
The love lost, the love "you tossed" we've so heatedly debated.
A subject I intrinsically have loathed and thusly hated.
My heart you sliced, effectively diced and ultimately serrated. You've efficiently torn apart my bleeding heart, stabbed in the back right from the start. Since the very first time we dated. Now looking back, hinesight intact, I can't believe I was elated. Nay, even more I so adored. I did explore so far, in fact, that we even mated. My mind is blown, as love has flown. Your hearts now stone. As I have clearly stated. No love in sight, try as I might. I won't win this fight. Because your heart has been deflated. Goodbye! Now don't ask why I'm aggravated. I hate this situation! ✌

after a while, the door sensed
that it's left to itself now
to figure out whether to remain open or be closed.
this sudden realization,
made it very uncomfortable.

from the moment she walked out of that door,
everyone in the house, had the same strange feeling.

When we first met I’d write you love notes
Leave them scattered around your room.
When we first met I would stay up all night laughing, not yet tired from the lack of sleep.
When we first met every time you kissed me I could feel that you loved me then.
That was what seems like forever ago.

When we first met you’d smoke cigarettes as we laughed at sunrise. Working on what you promised of a dream.
You were living in a sober house, cracked walls, leaking ceiling.
Yet you felt like home.
I knew you had your nightmares everyone does.
You manipulated me, there were so many warning signs.
I don’t know how I stayed for so long or how I survived. All I know is I watched you almost die too many times.
Your choice is heroine. My choice used to be you.
But now I’ve called a lawyer and started smoking the cigarettes you hated the most too.