Blackened lies
I never blamed you
—but now I do.
you see
growing up I didnt see
that, father, you were harming me.
I was thirteen
“living the dream”
as I counted my breaths
knowing how easily I could erase the freedom of one.
Did you even try to stop me as I tried to die?
(youletmyheartdie)
I never blamed you for you were my hero
who would save me from the slaps of your lover, my mother, by being there to "hug the pain away".
but now that you’ve shattered my rose coloured glasses with your own fists
do I see
you hovering in the corner
while you watched us bleed
hovering in the world of liquid lies
as you slipped away to “this is a paradise”.
and I never blamed you
for you were hurting too.
but you are my father
and I can’t help but wonder if the whole in my chest wouldn’t feel so empty
if the weight on my shoulders wouldn’t feel so heavy
if the headaches in my soul wouldn’t happen so often
if all this couldve been prevented
if
you
were there.
But. I didn’t blame you because you didn’t directly hurt us like mom.
but you still hurt us
by slipping away when we needed you the most
and randomly showing up at our side while we were in tears
as you told us it was “okay”.
but it wasn’t okay.
white lies are fine
but you crossed the line
when you let her commit the crime of abuse
and then let her again
and then let her again
and continue to let her
and tell us that you’re “doing it for us”.
white lies turned black like the ashes of our hopes and dreams, can’t you see that you harmed us just the same?
So.
I don’t blame you; but I’ve become to hate you.
Dear Little Girl
A letter to my younger self
Dear little girl,
It’s not your fault
your talents were
suppressed, scolded,
snipped at the sign of
the first green shoot.
It’s not your fault
your questions were not welcomed
but shunned, feared, ignored,
it's not your fault
your doubts were demonized
to the point of timid compliance.
It's not your fault, dear heart, that
the river of your consciousness
was diverted, gathered at its head
and sent down a channel
rife with craggy stones and
knife-toothed dangers.
In many ways, you are
a product of your past,
your misguided authorities,
your ignorant peers.
You were nurtured, tended,
attentively trimmed,
to be an identical duplicate
in a topiary garden.
Your life was a series of
rigid expectations,
cultivated to a set of
unswaying provisions,
it's not your fault you were
unaware of the
unconventionality
of your carefully curated life.
It's not your fault
you were never allowed to be
all you could have been, all
you were meant to be.
It's not your fault, little soul,
your sense of wonder,
independence, insatiable curiosity,
were traded out for
pliable congruity,
molded, pressed, perfected,
then fired to completion,
and it isn't your fault that
you're starting to crack under
a pressure that never
should have been yours.
Take heart, darling girl,
it's not your fault,
I love you, for all that you are,
love every part of your
wide, innocent heart.
You are unique, intelligent,
brimming with life,
your potential brighter than
even the moon herself.
Be strong, my love,
it's not your fault, and
given the odds, you'll
grow up remarkably well.
Have faith, little one,
you will rise again,
despite the wrong
your power will dawn and
you will come back strong,
stronger than you know.
So hold on, dear girl,
you'll be there soon,
sooner than you think,
and not a moment too late.
Love, Your Future Self
Shaken not Stirred
Life is like a cocktail menu:
too many choices, expensive,
and only after many rounds
of choosing the wrong one
do you finally feel something,
and by then you’re on the ground.
And it’s not your fault
they won’t look you in the eye,
an apology over alcohol
never goes down like a whiskey sour.
not to blame
it's not your fault that i have abandonment issues
because my father left before i was born, to start a new
family that i would not be welcomed to be apart of.
so im sorry if i get sad when you leave or get
nervous when you dont talk to me for few days
because i'll start to think you dont want to stay, after all
what man would stay if my own father wouldnt?
please dont think it's your fault that i have trust
issues because the lover that came before you laid his
head on my chest and listened to me talk about how afraid
i was of being left broken hearted my a man once again, all
while he was deciding that i was pretty enough to fuck
but not good enough to mean it when he said he
loved me too.
i wouldnt want you to think it's your fault
that i cry when youre upset with me or silent
for too long because i start to over think and tell
myself that youre just going to fade away when things
get difficult because im too much to handle
too sarcastic, too much attitude, too sensitive
Fernweh.
It’s not your fault,
but the irony is not lost on me.
It’s not your fault that I got a double dose of wanderlust
my family tree is full of pirates, sailors and wreckers on one side
drovers, vagabonds and swag men on the other.
there will be no tying me down.
but that’s just family stories you say, there’s no proof
true, there are no traces, they died on the high seas, in ditches or out on the moors.
The few who where honoured with a church yard burial were never nailed down with stone or cross. They traveled lightly, my forbears.
It’s not your fault that I cannot resist the pull of the horizon,
be it on a boat, train, plane, or on foot step by single step
the need to travel is only beaten by the need to breathe.
It’s not your fault.
Oh, but how I fester and seethe,
You send me photos of music festivals, bonfires on the beach and the latest from your road trip.
You, who chose safety, have freedom
I who chose to roam, find myself in lockdown.With only the government sanctioned exercise to sooth me.
It’s not your fault.
But the irony is not lost on me.
Its not your fault
Darling, you were always my favourite. I lived for you. Would have died for you. But somehow I lived and you died.
That fateful day when your heart beat its last, I was there, waiting by your bedside for the moment that would free you from the pain.
As I watched you fade away, I didn’t think of that truck. I didn’t think of the wedding that we had planned for in the summer. I didn’t think of how I would live with the guilt of having survived the accident. All I could think of was that golden day last summer when you took my hand in yours and danced me around the garden, smiling mischievously as I waited with bated breath, never asking the question yet asking it in every way unspoken until I finally couldn’t wait and asked it myself. I remember your uproarious laugh at having outlasted me.
And I cried as I watched you, knowing it was I who would outlast you and not wanting it, hating it, hating myself, hating that truck.
Yet here I am, at the altar, with my husband-to-be. Wondering whether this was wrong even as I watch him smile lovingly at me, wondering if his love will conquer my guilt, break the invisible shield of blame that I have built around myself. He knows. I’ve told him and yet here we are.
As we are about to exchange rings, I think I see you, my darling. You bend down and whisper, “Its going to be fine. Its not your fault. Let go.” I smile at my husband to be, the first truly glorious smile I’ve given him since we met.
I don’t have you anymore
I always felt I loved you more than you loved me
Left my free time open for you
Disappointed when you made other plans
I would start arguments for no reason
Then you decided you didn’t want to deal with me anymore
I just couldn’t trust you when you said you loved me
It’s my fault I don’t have you anymore
First Blow
It's not your fault
that the world is
closing in around me.
It's not your fault
that I can't hear a word
you are saying to me.
Trust me when I say
it's not your fualt
that I am stuck
on the cold cement
and can't get up.
Because you were the one
to take the first blow.
And even if
you were not fast enough
to take the rest for me,
that first one counts.
Wherever I go after this,
I will always remember you,
who took the first blow in my stead.
Thank you.
And remember,
it's not your fault
your father hated me this much.