Mourning Skies

Years Through Doors

Since the age of four
I have seen my entire world mesh and twist
Words I once trusted
Eyes I once recognized
Faded into lands of make believe
Simply false facades to push me even farther
Over the edge that I now know
They were not the only creators of.
Since the age of four
I have been uprooted
Almost like a dam plant
But my roots haven't grown used to the soil
And my leaves wither and writhe
No longer stretching for the light
Because this light is unknown
This light is not my home
And I may find little rays of hope
Glistening in the tight-knit groups of troubled kids
With open arms
But the slightest reminder of the past
Can send me convulsing into recoil
And I'm never sure when I can recover.
Ever since the age of six
The words of him
Have itched and squirmed under my thin skin
Because he knew the sound made me go crazy
He knew just what words
Could puncture my flesh to the bone
But he didn't know
And he could never know
The permanent marks etched in bones
I'll never expose
And I may have let other people in
They may have seen the damage
But they will never know
How at age thirteen
I disconnected from everything
And everyone
Things that once made me happy
Held memories I could only recognize
As mournful at best
Because I was ultimately setting myself up for disaster
They always say that we lean towards
Those with traits we are familiar to
And maybe that seems true
Because the troubled minds
That troubled mine
Only draw me to others like me
And others like him
At age fifteen
I left him with a blocked number
And a list of unanswered phone calls
Two-hundred-fifty miles were put between us
I still lock the front door
And pull the shades down
And even lock my bedroom door
I had destroyed my last handle
Because the only security I had
Was being alone
And at least that I could help
That I could handle
Because being alone was better
Than having the possibility of him
Turning my doorknob.
But I know
One day I'll unlock the door
Fix my damn doorknob
Stop having to fill empty space on the walls
With angry drawings or words
One day
Empty space will not be an open door
For him to come back
Empty space will be an open door
For me to leave him
In that room
With his own broken doorknob
And I won't have to come back.