Did he ever love me?

Everything’s okay.

Just get in the car and go.

Just shake their hands; say hello.

Everything’s okay.

It’s just another day.

You see your father lifeless in a coffin

and your hate for him softens.

It’s not just another day,

but everything’s still okay.

Black fabrics soaked by yours brothers’ tears,

making it completely clear,

that everything is not okay.

I hate him.

Sorrow bubbles to my eyes;

I try to pop it with my eyelashes before it liquifies.

I hate him.

Did he ever love me?

How much does forgiveness demand…

to forgive someone who only rose a violent hand

instead of their children? Did he ever love me?

I can’t just hate him.

A need to love, to forgive him shown on my cheeks.

Love is something fatherless children can’t help but seek.

I can’t just hate him.

He couldn’t have loved me.

He only ever brought me pain.

Made my sanity impossible to maintain.

He never loved me.

Everything is okay again;

it’s just another day.

I hate him

because he never loved me.


Quick heart beats in cold vacant parking lots.

The tight grip, heavy breaths,


My face shoved down hard into his backseat,

the fabric rug burned onto my cheek.

The smell of air freshener and sorrow.

His tongue tasted of the salts of my skin when he kissed me goodbye and said “I love you”.

If only I said goodbye to myself too:

a subtle wave, 

a tear.

Every salt, every atom of my sanity was stolen from me that night

Now I am bland: baggy hoodies and layered clothing,


unlike those free “wild” girls

showing their bodies with pride.

My pride on a platter,

picked away from his teeth with a toothpick

until all that remained was nothing.

Our friends keep asking if I’m okay.

He smiles in their faces, puts his arm around me;

I say, “of course!”

I put on this show day after day,

month after month.

He says “I love you.”

Our friends applaud with so cutes and awww how sweets,

but I say nothing.

Head hung low, my eyes tell all,

whispering truths to the pavement.

He kisses my cheek…

it burns.

He says “I love you”

“Awww how sweet”

But this time,

I raise my head,

chin high, tears running down face,

My voice stern with anger  “HOW SALT!”

Gingerbread Man

Run run run,

as fast as you can.

You can’t catch me; I’m the gingerbread man.

We run run run,

as fast as we can.

But he caught us.

And our skin crumbled like gingerbread.

Pieces of what we were supposed to be,


shattered on the floor.

We cup and scoop our pieces into our hands,

trying to morph them into something.


anything worth calling “me”…

anything worthy of being called in general.

Tears forming on my face

like the sound of a sad song caressing your cheek,

slow and cool.

My face crumbles like gingerbread.

I sob into an emptiness,

into the absence of his arms.

Hide and No Seek–A True Story

My mind explodes with hatred. I was only told of the awful memories. I was only told of the abuse. My mom wanted to protect me from the bad. I was forced into a game of hide and seek except there was no one looking for me. My daddy loved me, but his hands said otherwise. My mommy loved him, but her mouth spoke differently. My mom took my brothers and I to a hiding spot away from my dad. Virginia became the room that you run to after turning off the last light in that one creepy hallway that’s only creepy in the dark. My daddy had become the creepy hallway. My mommy liked to pretend that the creepy hallway was creepy all the time. Everyone else knew that the hallway was fine when the light was on, but my mom could never see the light. My daddy was mommy’s new symbol of hatred and pain yet still there was some love. My mom would tell me about how bad daddy was because she needed to remind herself why she left the man she loved. Daddy did love us, but when his hands strook our faces, blood dripped, and tears flowed, mommy had us run and hide. Mommy knew she needed to protect us. Years go by and the games of hide and no seek continued. Mommy was too depressed to care for me. Mommy changed into something else and used other substances to cope with the pain. Hate towards my dad grew as I watched my mommy fall apart. I awoke every night from dreams of being killed by a mysterious man who you could say was quite creepy. Nevertheless, the game of hide and no seek continued until a new player entered the game. My uncle decided to seek for me in place of my daddy. He called us to tell us daddy was sick and couldn’t play much longer. Mommy thought we should go say goodbye and end the game once and for all. I saw him. I saw daddy for the first time since I was two. His face filled with regret and pain. He knew he should have been a better seeker or that he should have never played this game. He saw me all grown up. I saw his pain and my heart was overwhelmed. The game was over for I had found him. I forgave him. I went from being the hider to becoming the finder. I realized that the dark creepy hallway had light at some point. My daddy was good at some point before his regrets and he is good now. The light in the hallway was back on and my hatred left with the darkness. Months later when daddy died the light died with him. The darkness came back. This time is was much worse. I began a new game of hide and seek. I hid but depression had a tracking device on me. I gave up hiding from depression and I hid with depression from the world and hoped no one would seek us. I hid with the sorrow and pain locked away in my room. I seeked for a miracle which would turn on the light in the hallway for just a day, hour, or even minute. I seeked for one last shred of light and one last goodbye for the loveable creepy hallway, but it never came. So I became a closed door to the hallway. The sadness of the hallway chipped away at the door. Cracks formed in me, but somehow with those cracks colors bursted through. Through the sadness happiness formed and through the darkness light formed.