I don’t need someone to calm my anger, I need to learn how to talk to it.

I’m breaking open old wounds to see if they still bleed the same.

I’m sleeping on floors in houses that aren’t mine.

I’m drinking from the garden hose and spitting water on flowers to see if they’ll grow bitter.

I’m talking shit to strangers who don’t care about the plot.

I’m untangling the knots in my stomach.

Smoked every cigarette from the pack you left at my house months ago. I can’t hear the sound of your voice without feeling sick. I think back to girlhood and how hungry we were to get out. I wish we were bright eyed again, because that’s probably the last time I saw you in a gentle light.

You made my spirit break. You killed me first. You hold the lock that ties me to this place and I hope you choke on the key as you swallow it.

I kept telling myself that you were a product of the sadness- that the world hurt you deeply and wounds can’t be mended overnight. Now, your scars make me angry- you show them off like a prize. You wear them like a crown. You cut them back open when you feel lonely because it’s the only thing you can relate to.

And when I punch, I punch real fucking hard. And when I scream, I scream loudly. And when I cry, I fill oceans- but, you didn’t even try to tread water. That was the loudest action you ever made and it ripped through me. Forgiveness starts with me forgiving myself for giving too much. And when I show my teeth, I bite back- so for now, I’ll reach for silence. I’ll study my eyes and find peace in knowing that they’re the same as my fathers. I’ll remember that I don’t need someone to calm my anger, I need to learn how to talk to it. -AMT ©️