Shrapnel

Cradled by fists
rather than palms,
wide open to hold
my little red heart,
your love only a tool
used to silence a crying child
used at the right moments,
used, just like me.

Fishing wire and tackle
litter my memory of you.
Kodak memories
shoved into a dismal childhood
making a minefield
out of my head,
knowing that at any moment
my innocence could become shrapnel.

I excuse you,
rationalize for you,
stay silent for you,
let your actions speak for you,
and you ignore me,
forget that you know me,
stop from loving me,
and, like a coward, blame me.

If you never touch me again,
it'll be too soon.

Runner

Her mother ran away.
like an ignorant child,
she stole away in the night.
On the hunt for freedom,
fear and adrenaline egging her on.

She couldn't stop the crying,
she couldn't force a smile,
and sooner or later
she was the one crying the loudest.

Her mother couldn't love her,
with her broken mind and incapable hands,
all she could do was leave.

Her baby in the crib,
the phone off the hook,
milk in the microwave,
and the door wide open.

Her mother ran
and never looked back.