We Were As One.

It’s not that I don’t love you it’s just that when I was three I watched my father violently sob while packing a blue duffle bag and when I asked him where he was going he croaked out ‘your mother doesn’t love me anymore’ the sun in his eyes set that night and I’ve yet to see it rise again.

It’s not that I don’t love you it’s just that when I was six my grandfather lost his sanity over my grandmother and left a voicemail on our home phone screaming for my mother to give him his guns back― he went away for a while and I’m not sure if he’s ever coming back.

It’s not that I don’t love you it’s just that when I was nine my third grade teacher found out her husband was unfaithful to her and she was so distraught that she had to leave work for a few months. When she came back her smile was tightly knit to her face, but I saw the tears that permanently stained her cheeks raw like a ripe pomegranate and the way her hands shook with uncertainty.

It’s not that I don’t love you it’s just that when I was thirteen my sister’s boyfriend told her he didn’t want to be with her anymore so she stopped eating dinner and starting painting her eyes black. I guess she decided that if she didn’t look like the girl who fell in love with him she wouldn’t feel like her either.

It’s not that I don’t love you it’s just that for ten years straight I watched my step father break my mothers spirit with his words and the only time he ever touched her was to leave dark velvet bruises upon her skin― she stayed with him because she said being financially stable is more important than being mentally stable. I guess the apple never does fall too far from the tree, does it mother?

It’s not that I don’t love you, It’s just that I do.