☾
mother hit me today.
she slapped me across the cheek and turned my wrist like it was a doorknob.
all due to spotting the scattered rips upon my dress.
with all the wears and tears scatted on this dress, damage that i couldn't begin to control,
she views me as the perpetrator,
and batters me for it.
beneath sealed lips laid clenched teeth, holding it in cries and questions alike.
mother, if i told you it was the neighbor that you smiled at this morning who did this, would you stop blaming me?
would you stop hurting me?
but you didn't look as closely at my eyes as you did my dress.
so i learned to look more at the sunset through the window than at the bruises you gave me.
because some things are more important than others right?
