My Black Hole

Vampire bites littered

My little bothers forearms,

Exposing his lifelines.

Crouched to the ground, he cried,

“Don’t look at me, Sister. I am not your bother anymore.”

 

This led him to place a gun to his head,

Red and blue flashes raced to his aide.

Only to see the villain in his laugh

As they cuffed him and took him to jail.

“It was only a joke.”

 

This is where

Bottles of false hopes

Gave my dad a kaleidoscope vision of life:

Dizzying him to drink more, to blackout

As he veered to a sign and walk away unscathed.

 

When I pulled on his over-stretched shirt

Pleading him to come back

To come back to us.

Because a rundown trailer with vacant fridges

And dust-laden cabinets is all we had.

 

“Dad, can you hear me?”

Only silence answered.

 

Cut to my mom,

Falling to her knees as

Rives flowed from her eyes,

Followed by stuttered apologies

And a pause of realization

That her life was over:

She had lost her marriage and us, her kids.

 

Nothing was worse than that.

“I’m so sorry. It was all a misunderstanding.”

 

But to be called a liar by her

is like a silver bullet to a werewolf,

.

Iraq was his tour and he was to serve again.

“I swear I miss Dustin too!”

“Liar! You’re just copying me!”

 

I cried for my big brother to save me that night.

 

Past a decade ago,

My world of Lisa Frank stickers and folders

was shattered by a boy of platinum hair,

ice water eyes, parchment-colored skin.

He walked up and stole my smile,

“You’re ugly. Your skin is the color of mud and you don’t belong here.”

Speechless. Collapsing into a fit of tears. No one defended me.

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