Something’ about you,

when I stare at you, and you stare back at me.

like you was really mine, and that I really belong to you.

And I would always question if I were yours,

because my skin was darker, my sin was darker, my lens were darker, and my men of choice happened to be just as dark.

Did I mention that my seat was hotter, and the rent that I paid was much hotter, and you never gave a peace offering because you were just that much richer and your soul..

Ever had a chance to say thank you? A simple thank you for even just beginning my first steps, what about my last breath, that I thought, was stolen by a lover I never reconnected with again,

I could pretend, like you were the best mother.

Like how you wasn’t honest about stepping out on my father.

And the dishonesty fell before you, as you loved another mother.

But for that time, I accepted you.

I had no rhyme or reason.

I was only 17 and my head was bleedin’

I needed a mother, and how ever it was that she came, even if she wasn’t coming for me.

Your time went through me like a fresh cut slice.

You’re no apple pie darling, you like your cake, and you eat it in front of your family’s face.

How unsettling to think I would deny God just to love my mother.

And we will get to that. Because I hold truth before I hold water. And those family ties must break like salted-butter.

And you made me feel so small like no other.

That’s why us young girls fall for whoever, not because of a youth-less father, sometimes it be our own mother.

So what.

what about that thank you for walking away, more like falling to my knees because a man, he was, or tried to be for me, was never accepted by you, a woman that was so dear to me.

But dear, I mean, you just never said thank you for the fall away. And that I did everything by the book, by your broken rules, by the covenant I sealed with you.

Under God, an oath, I took with you. As if I was in your womb, by myself, and all I had was a test.

a baby?

with a test?

a test so heavy?

Even when I threw my chocolate milk down because I thought I was pregnant and I was tired of this test. A test that you gave, never given by God.

How it tears me apart, to finally have you, out of this house and I’m free from your ruthless, disgusting, malicious words-slung, horrific questions, given by your bottomless test.

And aren’t you bi darling?

Maybe that’s why.

You never understood self, as you’ve been confused your whole life.

So I tried.

’caus I could not only see, but I held the hurt you would project onto me, as I confessed my stress daily.

Because sitting on my prayer mat, as I professed my love for you, to God, still wasn’t enough, as I was still being eaten up, by this monstrous test.

I wasn’t good enough, my psychosis darma wasn’t deep enough, my cousin placing his hands on me, as I was forced to place my hands around his piglet.. just wasn’t wrong enough. I’m sorry mother, but my trauma isn’t good enough for you.

I must ah move on.

I don’t excite you enough, for you to love me properly.

And I still remember the bubblegum you couldn’t afford at that lil gas station in the 90s, but my memory still isn’t sorry enough for you.

And I thank you for every one of you that has the heart to listen to mine shatter because a mother just wasn’t a mother like a mother. And until she’s a mother herself, she won’t be a mother to me.

There’s so much more to say, and trust that I will.

Because my therapist told me, it wasn’t my fault, like I wasn’t the one who failed.

Like she wasn’t the one who kept yelling.

And the way my ears would ring.

Like I was fighting this paper-less test.

The battle inside, hearing those words, just caved like battered kitten.

And that was my closure.

That was my ah-ha moment.

Like God really saw then, everything he sees now.

And for that, as it said in scripture..

God is my mother my father [my best friend] my sister, my brother, my husband. And for that I no longer need my mother.

For God giveth and he taketh away, and she was the biggest blessing he took away.

And though she’s still living, she’s no longer living inside of me, no longer can she hurt me with her slur of treacherous words or her back-handed compliments.

My soul is free, and my spirit is lifted.

And to my first-time lover..even though the door was slammed in both of our faces, while you’re out there somewhere, anywhere, just know someone is loving me just like you. But just a tad more patient with me, a tad more welcoming, a tad more luscious with the compliments, a tad more understanding.

I could go on, but he’s just a tad bit more.

And now I’m planning to be a mother.