Daughter

Daughter,

Do you know me?

Because you don’t need to.

I don’t want you to.

You cannot exist

I long for you. I crave you.

But because of me,

You cannot.

I cannot express my hurt to you.

For what would happen?

Would I tell you of the lipstick smears across my pillowcase,

For only the sake of nothing the night before.

For the evening stained coffee cups bought on night spent alone,

Would you know of their longing stares?

Of the boys who watched but never disturbed.

Their touch evaded me,

But their gaze was never concerned,

It was as though my skin were salt.

But they were struck by the appearance of sugar.

As though to say, yes, yes I want that,

But not me apparently.

Would you now daughter of how I hungered for heartache?To feel my friends breath beneath my tongue,

To know what it was like, to be wanted, to be lied to, to fuckin hold.

To be abandoned for nothing more than lost love.

How I longed to feel the heat between my teeth, scars marred on my heart,

As the ache from the loss wounded me

To have their skin be my skin,

And to know the feeling of normal.

Would you know daughter, how I settled?

How I could no longer stand the tales of sugar,

And see myself as salt.

Did I tell you my dear daughter,

of my lion’s heart?

Of the beast that roared inside,

Ready to Conquer,

Hold.

Avenge.

No, no I imagine I did not.

For what you saw was woman who settled,

And a spirit that never did.

Did you know, dear daughter that is why you were never enough?

That you have my heart and my soul,

And that was never enough.

Never enough to convince me that I was sugar and not salt.

Never enough to see the bursting spleen from my friends lips,

To notice the misplaced organs of hate,

Leaking, leaking onto me their ambitions,

Hoping I would not recognize my own.

Because if I did not see me, then you never would.

And the cycle would continue.

And their daughters could be safe.

Safe from our ambitions,

Which would seep into their reality and yet remain beyond their grasp,

Safe from our wishes,

Which could never become their own.

Safe from our dreams,

Which could come true as they watched.

We were never salt,

We would realize.

We are Crystal.

And only the worthy should touch.

A prized precious stone,

Whose glimmering one could not help but watch.

Did I tell you this dear daughter?

No, no I imagine I did not.

Did you know about your father?

No, not the one you met,

The one I have known,

And whom one day, you will too.

The man

Who saw my face,

And wanted nothing more.

Of how my presence lessened around him,

Crushing bones and breaking jewels just to be sweet,

A confection for his pleasing.

Praying for his touch to prove it was true,

I was the same.

Did I tell you dear daughter of our wedding day,

Of how all my friends cried,

And my mother gave me the bouquet,

And we both knew we were normal.

Do I love your father?Yes, I do.

But the only men before him were liars and jewel thieves,

Who longed to get away before anyone knew.

Including me.

Your father, did he love me?Perhaps.

He loves you.

He loves your wild heart,

And lion’s head,

A trait you get from him.

That entitled mind you hold,

The one that never rationalizes your heart,

That is him.

You have his soul and my being,

But you are overall me.

I see the way the girls look at you,

Hoping, praying you’ll never know.

I hear the way the boys never call.

I see the hurt in your face.

The hunger, for which your teeth rage.

And I blame you.

I curse you,

Call you sour and sweet names,

Make you feel as though you were nothing at all.

Yank out your guts for pieces of paper,

Dress you up in plastic,

Tell you that you deserve the world,

As I fix your hair,

Would you want to know all that?

Oh daughter,

Would you want to know?

That I am not evil,

That I do not hate you.

I only hate what I cannot have

And you’ll never have.

Would you want to know?

Of how I love you.

Because it scares me so.

Would you hate me?

Would you blame me?

Would you forget all of your troubles and would I be forgiven?

More than likely not.

More than likely you would be blamed,

You would hate you,

And then I would hate myself.

And I already do that.

You would remember your troubles thoroughly ,

As I have.

You would never forgive yourself,

As I have.

You would never let go,

As I have.

Daughter, do you know me? No, you don’t.

And why?

Because you do not need to know.

And do not tell the others you are my own.

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