You promised my parents that you would take care of me,
as I fought back tears the day we moved away to another country.
You said that you took care of everything, already bought food and diapers for
our little girl.
But the apartment was almost empty, dark and cold, already I didn't like this new
life in a different world.
Friends came first with their smoking pot, partying and too much alcohol.
Seems you had forgotten your family at home...never thinking of us at all.
Nights passed out with your dinner still on the plate falling from your lap,
our daughter tries to wake you, wanting to play after her nap.
I thought if I loved you enough that you would change, even had the idea that
giving you a son (actually two) would open your eyes.
No help came from you while in the wee morning hours, drained from total
exhaustion, my own tears mixed with your son's cries.
You were slipping further and further away, spiraling out of control.
My faith was tested as I remembered those words "in sickness and health, for better
or worse, to have and to hold."
Mental, emotional and verbal abuse had all but broken my spirit,
after eleven long years, I somehow found the strength to finally call it quits.
You stalked me at work, leaving graffitti on the walls...thinking I would come
back to you now, sending flowers, making non-stop phone calls.
You got a job and tried to make things work, but meth had a much stronger hold on
you.
How could you become so controlled by that shit? God, you're such a jerk!
I saw you once from across the street, much skinnier now, losing your hair and
your beautiful smile now broken and cracked.
Nothing could reach you from that deep, dark hole you were in and
you weren't coming back.
I still remember the day I got the news, you had taken your life; drugs and
alcohol claiming their newest victory.
So, why did I feel hurt by this? Why did it even matter to me?
I hate you for what you've done! Couldn't you have been a father to your kids?
They will never know you now, how do I tell them this fucked up thing you did?
All the fighting, yelling, screaming, threats, throwing things, broken glass...
these scenes flood my memory; how can I possibly still care about your dumbass?
You were my first real love, my husband and the father of my children.
Not a day goes by that I don't wonder, was this my fault? What if I had stayed,
tried harder? What would've happened then?
You won't get out of my mind, memories won't go away... yes, we fought and
things got bad.
But, I remember how powerful our love was...some of the best times I ever had.
I hate you for what you did! How could you leave everyone behind? Me, your kids,
your family...
Damn you! Took my heart, invaded my soul, ripped it all apart, I have to ask, need
to know, did you ever love me?
Author notes
this is the anger I felt against my first husband. we were still married when he committed suicide in 1995. it still affects me to this day.
A contest entry
- Come on Lovely Poets! Let Your Hatred Come Out With Cruel Passion by Leaving Today.
465 points, ended August 19, 2008, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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i can relate to this..my mama went through stuff like this..unlike you though my "father" is still alive..it will never be your fault..never any of ours. they chose that way, they will always get what they deserve. they will be the one at loss..im sorry for the stuff he put you through..amazzing write!
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A very heartfelt, honest, sincere, though tragic composition!
I hope your life has stabilized.--so Sad!
Best of luck in the contest and writing is a great outlet to purge your inner feelings!
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Some schools of thought say Show, don't tell. Some say Tell, don't show. Some say be concise, others are open to a lengthy write. You know, it's true, we can't please everyone all of the time poetically but you know, we can choose not to tolerate domestic abuse. Like yourself, I poured emotions onto the page to try and purge myself when, at long last, I was able to put pen to paper and every single syllable was necessary for me to articulate the angst , so I understand this write, this level of feeling, the craziness of loving the person but not their misbehaviour and despite my incessant rambling I have no answers, the life lessons we are given must be for a reason and a psychic told me that mine were to prevent me from a worse scenario, in the name of all things holy I went through hell on earth and life was simply an existence in shades of blue through to purple and black, mind numbing senseless void of midnight long days coloured grey and yes, he was a f***ing idiot, like all abusive men ( one in three in the UK and one in two in the USA ) but before the meltdown, yes, yes, yes, there were mountain high moments. I sincerely hope this write was cathartic for you and that you and your children may now grow towards the light.
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Wow i liked this alot. I loved the way it was written with such emotion. Great job. ..<3.. Shelly :] :] :\
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