I.
i was told so many times
the discipline is because i love you
being punished is the only way
bad children learn their lessons and don't turn into
bad adults and
i trusted that lie, because
i was young
and it was all i knew
because i was young enough to believe
that parents never lie to their children
to believe parents couldn't be wrong
it was me who was always wrong.
but if that's true then why
can i remember the things they called me
so quickly but the lessons
i was supposed to learn slip my mind?

II.
you disgusting little girl lives behind my eyes and
it will even when i'm forty years past this
i can't count the times they called me
that
even with the fingers on both of my hands
and both of yours
but even if god herself held a gun to my temple
i couldn't tell you one reason they called me it
and i can't get it out of my head,
still a disgusting little girl
that no one would ever love
no one would even want to spend time around

III.
i remember
tiptoeing down the basement stairs
to the laundry room
my mother sorting socks
i wanted to tell her
goodnight
sleep tight
don't let the bedbugs bite

i remember my little stubby nine year old legs
hauling butt to my room
as my mother screamed
if i ever see your face again
i'll kill you with my own hands.
remember my father going to bat for me
then, his screams
this family is broken
and it's your fault
you're ruining my relationship
with my family
but i can't tell you what i did, only that
i only know how to break things
not how to fix them
because no matter how hard i try
just like midas
i kill everything i touch

my greed has no home
it's a stomach that gobbles up everything it sees
with no understanding that it will throw it all up again
as soon as it can

IV.
maybe my parents punished me out of love
maybe they punished me out of anger
my parents loved me.
my parents loved me, but.
my parents loved me
but there's this thing about their love:
it's not all that different from their hate.
my parents loved me, but.
that's what it all comes back to:
but.
but they don't know what love is.

i'm only just now learning that love isn't
broken glass sharp enough
your lips gush blood
it isn't rubber bands that
cut into your wrists until they itch
love mostly, i'm learning,
doesn't hurt.
it isn't sleepless nights
and burnt sugar cookies
it's feeling safe and warm
hot chocolate and ice skates
it's weighted blankets and smiling eye contact