to my abuser.

Dear Grandma, 

i took the wrong turn into the ER.

“go to the red lot.” they said

“that's where they die.” i thought

no that's not where they die -

it's where i die.

between the steaming sheets and my body

emptying itself of blood

between the bills in your husband’s shaking hands

as he hands me the 20s

he wants me to have.

for “helping”

i mean the world to you.

but that means nothing when i am sitting in my bed

my sheets soaking wet from the tears i am crying

i am 18 years old since the week before last

but i am a child scared beside my mother

panting in pain

“they hurt me mom, they hurt me”

i cannot explain how. i cannot know why.

i wish i knew why.

“what did they do?”

what did You do?


You broke me.

You broke me with your accusations

You broke me with you belittlings

i am sputtering.


i am sputtering.

i am crying,


take me under with you



you do not know if hell is real but if it is

i know you’ll be there soon

if not today, tomorrow.

and if not tomorrow, the day after.

the day before your last

i will tell you i love you.

you will never know that you broke me.

i will never look through your eyes and tell you

“you are the reason i tried to kill myself”

like you did to me.

i am not that cruel.

elders are like children,

too fragile to hurt,

but too dangerous to love.

it's true all of it. i would have rather died before saying it

or at least let you first.


hand me the bond you saved for my life

so i can tear it up for your death

let me trample all you have done to me

i refuse to crack again.

i cannot break again.

take me with you when you die.

i have nowhere left to live.


This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: