Thursday, February 14, 2013

The Meaning of Love

To be honest,
I don't know how to love.
In all of my years have I ever loved.

I don't know how to love.
I don't even know what love looks like
Because all I remember seeing was my father stumbling in the house late at night.
With a bottle of Whiskey in his hand.
His eyes were red with both intoxication and hate.
And my mother always felt his wrath.
Even though she tried to hide it from me
I saw how her white shirt was speckled red.
I also noticed how every morning,
their "love" left a new hole in the wall.

I don't know how to love
I don't even know what love sounds like.
Because all I ever heard were my mother's screams.
My father's shouts.
The loud "BOOM!" against the walls.
My mother was never beautiful nor valuable to him.
My father only described her as stupid, unwanted, unneeded, and replaceable.

I don't know how to love.
I don't even  know what love feels like.
Because all I remember was the feeling of fear
Jumping from my mother, onto me, and back again.
My father would tell her he loved her,
But soon after he would ball up his fists
And slam his "love" upside her head.
And yet,
she stayed.
So I remember feeling confused.

What is love?
I've never seen it.
I've never heard t.
I've never felt it.

Never in my life have I loved.
Because I don't know what love it.
But one thing is for sure.
I do know what love is not.

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