To Ashley, with every fiber that bran has given me.
I still recall hiding
Beneath the blankets of my bed,
Trying hard but failing
To get your voice out of my head,
While listening to you complain
And your petty, selfish screams;
Scared you’d open up my door,
I gripped my shelter’s seams.
Every battle lost,
Every apology unheard,
If I dared to be reasonable
My fate would be assured.
And then we had a baby
And you used her like a sword
To pierce my broken armor
With manipulating words.
I tried and failed to save you,
And I would always be blamed
For the thing you have become:
For the monster’s soul is maimed.
Then you stole our daughter from me
And you vandalized our house,
You hid behind your vagina:
“The world’s most perfect spouse.”
Now I’m stuck somewhere between
The lion and the lamb;
Still cowering in fear
But knowing that’s not who I am.
Because I am a good husband,
A good person, a good dad.
And those memories of me hiding
Are all we ever had.