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Kinder, Softer, Better

mother says suffering will make you kinder, softer, better.
she lights a candle. sends you prayers. dreams of the person that will come back.
different from the one that is gone. she speaks of your shattered arms, bloody head, broken feet.
how they kept you for days in a cold concrete cell and send you back in sweltering heat
with nothing on your back. she says suffering will make you kinder, softer, better.
I keep the questions locked in my mouth.
why is suffering the key? why couldn't you be softer, kinder, better on your own?
is a broken body the same as a broken mind, heart, soul?
she asks if I want to speak with you I shake my head.
the words I want to say will break the spell over our heads.
people don't change. please don't come back.
this time, just this time, I hope to be wrong.

Love Is Not for You and I

were you raised with your mother kneeling at the feet of your father
with his hands on her neck like a collar
did you learn the tremors and screams of her throat
the scars on her hands
the welts on her back
did you see the smile on her face tight-lipped to hide the blood between her lips
did you hear your father call it love
is that why you seek the same from me

Shape of Me

how can I hate what you love
but as I look in the mirror
I can't find what you see
when you name me beautiful and place prayers at my feet
you are foolish for loving the first person that offered you the recipe to kindness
how can you find comfort in the swell of my arms
how can you peel all the layers of filth and ugly and dirt
find something small and broken and name it love
where can I find eyes like yours so I won't lay at night
measuring time waiting for you to realize
that love is not something that comes in the shape of me