(January 8th,2024)
Knowing your gonna ask about my writing
So I've been sitting here trying to think of anything
My poetry only works with an earthquake of emotions
Every word that's written has to be deep from my soul
Or it's never anything that gets a title
My poetry is all the words I couldn't say
I've choked down so many words
Kept quiet while I'd silently scream in the showers and cry but jam to music so no one could hear it outside of the door
If my rapist's moms house
was the house of horror
My childhood home was Dahmers
Except I was the bodies torn about and frozen in different places
Erasing that need to not want to break down every wall from here to China
Oh, that's just how deep that anger festers in me
Some days I fear talking about it
Will completely and utterly destroy me
Because I remember Papa making us piss ourselves at the dinner table telling a work story
His little giggles always made up for the third or fourth or fifth beer in his hand
How his endless jibber jabber in the truck always made up for his beer smelling cup swishing in the cup holders
It's hard to love someone who all your best and good memories mean he's at least buzzed
Or the way my inner critic is basically my moms voice
Staring in the mirror too long
Makes it hard to make eye contact sometimes
I normally can't look
At all
But listening to her sing in her truck while she tapped along to the beat on her steering wheel
It always made her look free like she wasn't holding back for just a moment
Same with the laughs we shared
Just us
Watching our shows or making fun of my dad while he watches them with us
Knowing it doesn't last
Because mom would always makes a comment
And id snap
I don't think anyone ever knew how many tears, and how many screams I had to hold back
Some days at work
I try to say something to customers and I can't make anything come out of my mouth
I wish a part of me wasn't still traumatized and tongue tied
Because digging deeper
Just makes the anger build a bigger wall around me
I need to take this anger down
But it seems like every moment I don't work through what they've done
Is another moment I silently scream my comfort song
In the cold shower to feel something
Because why is this how I'm spending my second chance?
Second chance on parents I didn't get to choose
One of the best moments when my mom told me I wasn't loyal to them anymore
Felt like the first time in my twenty something years of life I could breathe
How the hell is it twice but I never got to choose
Sometimes I don't know what part of me is angry with them
The very young me, teenager me, or me now as a mother, as a parent
Sometimes it's easier to pretend that you're a figment of my imagination because then the moments we smiled and laughed together don't feel like distant memories
My imagination as a kid ran so long and far
I think I was only allowed to be in my head
Because words or emotions don't hold gravity in these homes
It was just how their I love You's were
And that is the part that angers me the most
All the I love You's you left me hanging on
Always waiting a couple moments for you to say it back
Not because you were mad
Still angers me
I could be furious with my daughter for tearing shit up because she's a kid and super busy little bee
But she'll always get tucked in to bed, and told I love you
Because I love you should fucking hold gravity in the house you grew up in
YOU ARE READING
Your Struggles is What Creates Your Depth
PoetryA collection of poetry,and random thoughts written when I was struggling to find my way.
