therapy.

she is oh so fragile, made of pretty pieces of shattered glass and shards of clouds for eyes. she can sing her little heart out and tell you a story that you'll want to hear, while holding your heart out to the light you're sure she has. she will tell you she is strong, strong and true until you hold her under the blue blue light to find out for your self and then you will see the cracks and fissures and fractures that mean the end. she is oh so sweet until you unwrap the layers, one by one by one and then you get to her center and find something bitter and jaded jaded by time and doubt and regret.
she is oh so fragile, and one would think she would have broken by now and scattered herself into a million little pieces of colored dreams.
---------


'hold on to me. don't let go. i don't know how to stay together now.'
______

questions left un
answered leave
awful tastes hang
ing in the air.
--

there is something, no, somethings that i want you to answer for. that i want to know how you could wake up every morning and look yourself in the mirror. i want to know how you weren't consumed with guilt, and yes, i'm aware of how ridiculously cliche that sounds. i want to know if you fully understand that you did indeed fuck up your life. again. i want to know how you can look us in the eyes and say you're sorry, that you didn't mean for this to happen. again. i want to know if all of this was worth it, if you found what you were looking for. if you even knew what you were looking for.

i was on the phone the entire night, looking for something, anything, anyone that could have seen you. that would know something about where you went. about if you were safe or not. whether you had ran willingly or had been dragged. no one knew anything.

and then we found you. we found you and brought you home. we started talking and i told you i wanted these answers and the only thing you had to say for your self is 'you won't believe me.' well, no shit. that doesn't mean silence is better.

i hit you. more than once. this entire thing, the things you've done, i hit you for them. afterwords, i wanted to die. i wanted to crawl into bed and never come out. i walked towards you and you shied away from me. i wanted to scream and cry and be mad at you some more. and then puke my guts up. that's what i wanted to do. i have never hit someone i called family. i'm supposed to protect you, i'm supposed to set an example, show you what's right and wrong. and here i am, irate and sad and sick to my stomach. and i hit you.

you know that, don't you? you know that we are supposed to protect them? just like i'm to protect you. we are the older ones. that's how it goes. we are supposed to protect them with everything we have. supposed to keep them safe and whole, mentally and physically. we are supposed to be there when they have their first boyfriend, when they go to college and when they get married. and every time in between. don't you know that? and they are the ones that you bullied and threatened and turned inside out to keep yourself safe.

do you understand that she would have done anything for you? that she has done anything for you? or that he would have done anything for you? that he has done anything for you? he didn't even have to. he wasn't related to you and didn't know you from adam. but because he married her, you were his kin. and you threw that away. again.

i am sad and frustrated and mad and ashamed and dissapointed and pissed off. i don't understand you. i don't know if i ever did, or if you were acting the entire time. i don't know.
i don't know.
i don't fucking know.

do you?