I still remember the first time
I was taught to never love.
I was 5 years old.
I woke up from screams being thrown
From my parents mouths
As they argued on many occasions.
These nights left my body aching
Wanting nothing more than for my cold heart
To be covered with love that would fail to arrive.
This still burdens my heart Whenever
I dare to think of my future.
In 2008,
I was 7,
With tears peering at the edge of my eyes
Threatening to fall at any moment
While I stared at my father
Laying in a white hospital bed
Surrounded by white walls
And white tubes
All put in because
of his stroke.
Whenever I see this word I feel red.
Anger rises in a ferocious manner.
I still remember when the doctor told me
To say goodbye
I was only 7
And still remember the dent on the right side of his skull
I can still see the dent now although the stitches are no longer there
But I know that I will always see the dent
The same way that the seizures I bore witness to many times have etched themselves into the back of my eyelids
I'll never forget the shaking
I'll never forget the blood
I'll never forget the red
And my eyes will tell me to never get attached
And I'll be taught again to never love.
I remember when my mom left my dad
She dropped him off at his mothers house
Just as quickly as when my dads nerves on his left side left him paralyzed.
I have not forgot that emptiness.
I have not forgot that betrayal.
In 2014 my parents finally got a divorce
They had been separated for many years
But no one will understand
The pain of finality.
In the next year
I grew faint with the summer heat.
I was molding myself to be a little too
Dependent on my father being constantly present.
I knew I had been foolish when he didn't pick up my calls
Or when he did not respond
Or when my voicemails were a pile
Of voiceless cries that echoed just beyond my screen
But they did not stretch out long enough for him to hear them and they had stretched out for weeks.
But what I did not know then still haunts my thoughts
I did not know that stroke had marked him as his
And had taken him yet again,
The second stroke broke me
But his absence had broke my heart,
And the only way I knew how to fix myself was to cry into pen ink that soaked endless mounds of paper.
This is the first time my heart knew pen and paper would be my safe haven.
But I know it would be silly of me to never love because of these small inconveniences.
But my brother knew pain too well
And let me feel every bit of pain he did.
I can still feel how his hands make me flinch
And his words still make me cower.
I am always afraid
And so I do not like touch anymore
So my mind wonders who will love me
If I can not even love myself.
And my older sister has left me
It still hurts
It's only been a year
But the open wound she had left
Is still fresh
It does not scab
And I do not know when or if it will ever heal.
Because I know she will leave me again
Just like the last time and the time before then.
I am now always afraid of being abandoned
Or left behind
I remember when she left
It's a vivid moving picture
That plays endlessly in my memories.
My eyes were filled to the brim then
And even now my eyes threaten to release waterfalls.
I do not blame love for these instances
But my instincts tell me not to trust love.
I know love is beautiful
But beauty hurt me too many times
And I've been taught to never trust love.
-A.a
