an ode to my mother's ex boyfriend.

Dear,

My mother’s ex-boyfriend of two years,

My biological father left when I was six

And ever since then, I've been looking for someone to fix

this hole in my chest.

You saw that, didn't you?

You saw my aching

and with my aching,

You saw your chance.

but now my aching isn't aching anymore.

My aching is me breaking

And crumbling.

It's my wasted tears in the midst of night.

The wheezing that comes out when even my voice is out of sight.

It's the way I have to clench my chest to make sure it won't burst.

The way I place my hand over my heart to make sure it's still beating.

You told my mom that you loved her.

You said you'd change

that things wouldn't be the same.

I've always wondered

did you ever stop to tell her

about your midnight snacks in my bedroom?

or maybe about the days she worked late?

probably not.

You know, rape is a funny word.

if you say it 5 times fast,

it still sounds the same

But except your mouth starts to feel a little numb.

And you know what rhymes with no?

go.

as in “go away”

as in “go on and leave me alone”

as in “I definitely didn't say go ahead and do what you want”.

You know what doesn't rhyme with go?

“stop”

“you're hurting me”

“I don't want it”

“please don't do this”

“God help me”

And if you still don't get it by now,

You should know that the overall translation of these words means that you do not have my permission to go any further.

And I mean legally, I'm not even old enough to give you permission.

I figured my screams would have been a dead give away but, I guess not.

When you look in the mirror what do you see?

do you see a godly man?

how about a perv?

or maybe a thief?

I see a criminal.

You took something that wasn't yours to take.

You saw that little hole and couldn't see the harm in taking a little bit more out of me like I was some piece of a cake.

But now all I see is you.

You haunt my fucking nightmares

And daydreams.

When I close my eyes and see you,

All I want to do is scream.

You make me want to rip out my eyeballs

And bash in my brain

cause the memories,

The flashbacks of you

drive me fucking insane.

And you know what's even worse?

You can't even see the errors of your ways.

I told you enough

And you asked why.

My mom told me that you think of me as a daughter.

But I don't think that's the way daddies treat their little girls.

This poem is about: 
Me

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