Tag Archives: love

Number Six

She sits pretty,

pink wig on. White

top, tank.

The sleeves off

her shoulders.

 

He had adorned

her hair with flowers,

creating pigtails.

Her eyes were glazed,

frozen.

 

Her mouth was partially

open, as if she were exhaling.

Blood poured

from her throat, cut.

He only did that

 

to the ones he loved.

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New Doll

Knees together

Eyes open

Her head-tilted

Not moving

 

She’s his new one

His favorite.

I hate her.

She’s taken him.

 

Both hands

On couch

Feet in heels

apart

 

I want his attention

I can’t move.

He’s brushing her hair.

Its my fault.

 

Yellow skirt flowers

White top

Puffed sleeves

Knee-high socks

 

I’m used, dirty.

That doll is his favorite.

He’ll do it to her, too.

She’s lucky.

 

Perfectly straight

Blonde hair

Wide eyes

Pouty lips

 

She’s perfect.

I’m not.

I’m broken, she’s whole.

I want him to love me again.

 

She’s scared.

I’m trash.

 


Happy Two Months

Sleep on my chest,
dear child
and snugglee close.

Two months in my life,
dear child
and already so big.

Slow it down,
my child
and let me savor
these next eighteen
years.


A Scene

I was never used to this sort of scene: my husband laying on his back, texting something or other to his sister. The big screen television set, though having an orange tint, was connected to some sort of cable network. HGTV had the international version of House Hunters. Oma Rosemary was making cake icing for the funfetti cake David had baked. She worked diligently. I wished I could help her, glaring at the webpages of various universities.

“Why can’t these be user friendly?” I grumbled.

“What was that, love?”

“Nothing, honey,” I said, smiling at David. He was staring at me with the beautiful green eyes that just emulated love towards me. My heart swelled and tears sprung to my eyes. Fredrick kicked from inside my womb. Turning back to the computer, Oma suddenly cleared her throat.

“Where are my two beater lickers?” she asked, turning around in her wheelchair. Her purple blanket dangled off her legs precariously. In her left hand were the beaters from her electric mixer.

“What do you say?” I asked David, turning to look at him. “Do you want to lick her beaters?”

David started laughing, losing all control. He rolled on the floor, hitting it with his fist before finally taking the beaters from his grandmother’s hand and handing one to me. Putting aside the computer, I started licking the chocolaty icing goodness.


Safe Haven

 

 

I had none.

School, where children

bullied relentlessly

was an escape from home.

Church, which was

supposed to be a place

of sanctuary

and worship was instead

another battleground.

Home was a confusing

mess of lies

and emotional abuse

for years.

 

At home,

my grandparents

didn’t believe I was being

treated badly

on all fronts.

I was shouted at constantly

for doing things

that should’ve been

considered normal.

STOP THAT CRYING

I wanted my mommy.

You’re going to your

father’s.

I wanted my mommy.

 

“Daddy” was someone

I was sent to when

my grandparents wanted

a weekend to themselves.

I repressed my memories

of him,

but they came

flooding back

when I write.

And I have

to keep my head

down

to stop them.

 

My mother, I wouldn’t

see for months at a time.

My mommy took me to Starbucks

for hot chocolate.

My mommy took me doll

shopping.

What did you do with yours?

Nothing. I didn’t see her.

MOMLESS CRYBABY!

Momless crybaby!

 

School was a fucking

nightmare.

Classes were easy,

socializing was hard.

Everyday I sat beside

someone who made fun

of me.

Made fun of:

My lisp

My being over sensitive

Being friendsless

Being awkward

Being bisexual

 

Bisexuality is not a fucking choice!

 

Church made accusations.

You’re a sinner:

for being a child

for not fitting in

for having a talent

for having no talent

for caring for schoolwork

for being bullied

for being on the lowest rung

for being a girl

for being gay or bi

And you’re going to Hell.

 

My peers eventually

stopped bullying

me.

I guess a black

eye and split lip

is enough to

change minds.

The church kept

going.

My grandparents

noticed me getting

a mind of my own,

a sign of

growing up.

 

They cracked down.

Hard.

Eventually they gave

up forcing me to church.

 

I have a safe haven now.

 

It is not in my mind

or my heart.

Those still need

healing.

 

My safe haven

are two, strong

arms holding me tight,

belonging to the man

whose ring I wear;

My friends who

noticed my changes

and helped me accept them;

Hollins University where

the grass grows green,

the teachers like Charlotte

Matthews and Lawrence

Wayne Markert are these

epic, supporting people, and

where the new friends I’ve

made—like Patty, Lauren, Lucretia,

and Shoshana—know

how to love like sisters.

 

I have found my safe haven

and I hope I can be one

for my baby.


Learn

As we live we grow

As we grow we learn

The greatest things

We learn which causes change

 

There are powerful things

That causes pain

Things that causes us

To remember

 

The ring of a mother

Who lost the battle

Of a lifetime

 

The picture of a man

Whose life went out

Right before Christmas

 

We learn about loss

 

There are powerful things

That remind us

That we have to go on

For ourselves and others

 

A warm smile

That makes you glow

From inside out

 

A ring around your finger

Tying you together

As your heart glows

 

We learn about love

 

These are the things

That shape us.


Sleep and Dreams

Like a hunter,

it creeps up on you

to try and take

you to a new world

 

It laughs at your pain

and brings about the nightmares

that make you scream

 

But it doesn’t do all bad

 

Sometimes it gives you hope

and brings you the one thing

you desire most

 

Sleep wraps itself around you

like a blanket

that has all the good

and the bad.