Abortion

There was this sinking feeling today.
This dreaded thump of each heartbeat.
A slow and steady rush that was once welcomed but now seems tainted.
Where has your perfection gone?
The hopes and dreams dashed upon the ultrasound screen.
There is this scream inside my head that ignores my soul.
How can my heart love you so much but my mind falter at the words?
And always this echo
“If we had known sooner you could have had an abortion”
Each flutter is a reminder of my guilt
A reminder of my fear
And constantly I think I must be the brain damaged one.

Cancer

Its sound is as always, disgusting.
The incontrollable bought of nausea and fear
That follows is as always, painfully real.
One word, two syllabus.
First part sounds like death.
Sometimes the scar still hurts
The little white line,
That mingles there amid the creases,
Gifts from midnight feedings.
The cancer is as always, terrifying.

Dying

The taste is acidic,
No matter the why.
Ever since that first taste
Death has been an acid,
Eating away
At this spot between my shoulders
That no man can ever touch,
A constant companion
Screaming in my ear
The frailty of man.
There is always this fear of it,
This unexplainable, definite nature
That is independent of time or reason.
And there sits death in his spot,
That spot that no man can touch,
And I watch the hole grow larger
As you begin to fill it.

Dear Mom

Did you know that I am good at math? 
97 in statitistics.  Not too bad.  I’m five classes away from graduating with a 4.0.  I’m going to go to law school. 
Did you know that? 
I’m going to be a juvenile defender. Help all the kids like me I guess.
Did you know I drive a beautiful new car, and live in a beautiful house? 
We worked hard for them, but now we have them.  At 25 we have them.  I think that’s pretty good. 
Did you know that I’m a good person? 
I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I’ve never done drugs.  I don’t even remember the last time I lied, well I guess it was about the macaroni and cheese. 
Do you remember that? 
I actually am a good person.  I make mistakes, a lot of them, but I’m a good person. 
Did you know that? 
I have three boys now.  Three amazing boys that despite what you think are being raised well.  They are respectful and kind.  They have gentle souls.  They care about people.  Even Arden. I guess you don’t know who he is.  I guess you don’t know any of them. 
Every year I send you a letter and let you know about us.  Every year you look at the beautiful faces of my children and just don’t care.  What a cruel hearted bitch you are. 
Did you know that after six years of this I still dream about you? 
I still think about you and wonder why.  I still ask God to help me find a way to fix it.
Did you know I hate myself because of you? 

Thanks Mom

Grandpa

For eight years you touched her
Told her it was all okay
Lingered fingers where fingers should never go
Tormented her with every moment
Enraged her, scared her, abused her
All under the disguise of love
But I am the villan here
Knowing all of this I invite you to my home
Ask you to play with my children
Ask you to be a Grandpa
Ask you to pretend to love
And always feel the victim when you refuse

Dying hope

Unsettled torment binds the twisted rope
In deep silence her teardrops hide
Weakend by her dying hope
She waits for the pain to subside
The summer day brings no reprieve
Failing to heal the feelings made
In solitude she continues to grieve
Begging you for forgiveness unrepaid
Her life has become a disheveled wreck
And prickly fragments of the rope embed
Riping slightly at her tender neck
Teardrops freeze in her eyes, unshed
As she swings gently in the breeze
A longing song sung by the trees
Killed by her own forsaken hand
Destroyed by your hate filled reprimand

Sick of this

I feel like you have died
Like you have been swallowed up in demon’s breath
Lost forever to me
Forgotten
I blame genetics for your unforgiving soul
I blame the beast that spawned the monster
However
Knowledge does not mend my bleeding heart
This lump in my throat will not depart
I wish I could hate you 
Disgustingly though I just hate me
As forseen
A disappointment I have become

I’m sorry

In your silence unrelenting tension hid
Frozen in a mask of sorrow
But your heart was too far away to mend
Forgotten in a coming tomorrow
I missed you for such a long time
Yearned to dry away your tears
Hoping it was you I would one day find
Searching throughout all the passing years
But for you the hatred made the quickest sand
And stuck you in this place
Destitute on your piece of sandy land
Sadly my love for you has gone to waste

The letter

You said I never cared about you, what a misconception that one is.  I cared about you every day.  I cared about you when you snuck out at night to go drink and party with people much too old for you to hang out with.  I cared about you when I saw your heart broken over assholes and pricks that never would fully appreciate you.  I cared about you when Mike hurt your feelings and we wrote terrible things about him in order to make you feel better.  I cared about you while we spent hours trying to find the actual definition for words like whore and asshole.  I cared enough about you that I kept those definitions in a memory box for the last fifteen years or so.  I cared about you every Sisterly Love Night when we spent hours cooking macaroni and playing games and watching movies.  I cared about you more than I did anyone else in the world.  You were my sister (although yes I know this isn’t really true), my friend, my partner in crime.  I cared.I cared for you every minute I was in basic and AIT.  I wondered how you were and wished you well.  And when I came home from there I cared enough to send you cards with my return address in a hope you would write back.  I cared enough to invite you to my wedding; of course you were going through basic then and couldn’t have come anyway.  I cared enough to hunt you down time and again.  To keep searching for you through any avenue I could think of.  I cared always.  And when I was told not to bother you again I cared enough I couldn’t breathe and I vomited from crying so hard.  I cared enough that I couldn’t respond to your hateful words and outright lies.  I cared enough that I respected your words and let it be, although it devastated me.  I cared and still care.And while you say not calling is a copout I would like to remind you that it was not.  There was that one time when we were dying of the flu on the way to Florida, when your mother pulled me into the front seat and explained to me that I would not be going home with her. I had written things in my diary that she had not approved of.  I had called her Janet instead of mom which showed she really wasn’t my mom.  For an entire vacation I sat waiting to be dropped off at Jim’s door.  And when she “abandoned” me there I ran out to the car crying and screaming that I wanted to go home with you.  After groveling enough my apology was accepted and I was able to go home.  From then on I kept a fake diary that said what I thought she would want to hear, so she would not disown me again.  I became a lie.  And still the threat of being disowned hung over my head.  So yes, I was afraid to call.  I was afraid to be disowned.  Of course because I was afraid the thing I feared actually happened.  And of course there is the fact that you could have called.  You were old enough to contact me whenever you wanted.  I was then and still am, no more than a phone call away.  You are also correct in the assumption that I was never part of your family.  No, I was not.  I lost my family in a matter of days when my mother died.  I lost everything I knew.  When I moved into your family I was lost and alone.  My own sister, the piece of my mother that still remained, was told she was only welcomed into your family unless she called your mother mom.  Jenn refused.  She stayed in Maine and for the next ten years of my life I was told she had chosen her friends over me.  Her letters were thrown in memory boxes unopened, her calls were always recorded.  She was told not to contact me.  And so I lost my family.  However the pseudo family your mother tried to create was very much lacking.  You were always the favorite, as you should have been.  No matter what I did it was not good enough.  My grades and my behavior was not because I was good, but because I was deceitful.  I was the cat and you were the dog, remember?  And the family vacations were taken while I was at my dad’s playing Skip-bo and reading books.  Do you remember when we were allowed to go to Las Vegas only if our grades were good enough?  Your’s were not; I still haven’t been.  And the little hand-me-downs that you got and I wished I could have, like the shirt she wore when she was in high school.  Janet pretended I was her daughter, but did not treat me like one.   I was punished for not being part of your family, but I was never really allowed to be part of it.  And then have you ever considered the fact that I was disowned?  No matter the actions of a child a parent still loves them.  A parent does not disown a child because they upset them, made them angry, embarrassed them, or hurt their feelings.  A parent does not sit by while their child lives their own life.  A parent does not force a child out of their lives, they welcome them in whenever they decide to come back.  That is what a parent does.  The prodigal son proves that not only does a parent do that, but a Christian does that.  I was disowned because I was never the daughter.  I was never part of the family.  Sadly, I was never part of the family because I never was allowed to be.I wish I could make you see things the way they were.  I wish we could talk like old friends catching up on life.  I had once hoped you would come play with the boys.  I had wanted you to be their godmother.  I have a guest room that I thought you could use.  I never realized your hatred and your resentment.  I never believed I had abandoned you.  I am sorry for how I have made you feel.  I will continue to love you and care about you, because I remember you as you were.  The little girl that use to be my best friend.  Take care, Alex.  ~Amanda

Searching

Somewhere down this dark and tiresome road
A stranger sits amidst the weeds
Searching the horizon still
Waiting forever just to find me
Missing my soul as part of their life
Wishing I was there again
Recognizing all my pain and strife
Desiring just be my friend
And so I walk quickly down the path
Searching for that girl again
But this person I just imagined
The girl no longer wants this friend