Bullets by Cairo Martin

He was ghost when all my mom and I had for breakfast were bullets

Biting down hard on those bullets, shattering her teeth

Only to swallow a reality that we both knew all too well

Bullets.

We dodged those silver reapers of death, often, they were bittersweet friends

On deaf ears fell our pleas for help. He was too busy with his new girlfriend, chilling and relaxing

while we suffered in silence dodging those cold steel bullets of absence.

As I got older, he called me his "baby girl."  All of the years that have passed by

WITHOUT him, have made this baby bulletproof with no spills of emotions. I no longer need your

touch, or your love...

My mom is my shield.

She suffers on our account often, diving into an ocean of red for fish, only to come up with a boot.

A boot that is often too small, but she still used it to shield me from the bullets.

Sometimes I wish that I could have both my mom and my dad here, so I can feel wanted.

But he's not, and he never will be,

Just another thing I will have to swallow without choking.

Sadly my mom is no stranger to abandonment, either.

Her mom as an apparition who faded into the night as soon as she took her first breath.

Her father, a magician, ditched her candy sweet satin smooth baby years to pass out poison to those whose minds were weak

"I'm coming for you, sugar." He lied through rotting teeth.

You now rest in peace, Pa Pa, but where is my mom's peace? You left her with pain.

I am no victim and I never will be.

Without him, I have learned to be strong.

Without a daddy in my life, I have learned to look inward for my bullet proof strength

No matter where you go, there will always be bullets

How you deal with them, depends on how far you're willing to allow the cold metal of indifference to penetrate your soul.

At the sign of the first shots

You strap on your vest, bob and weave and then get on about the business of living.

Life in bullets