forgetful: a poem

tw: traumatic experience references

Photo by Noita Digital on Unsplash

i hate the way
they pretend like it never happened:

the screaming, yelling,
the painful stomp of my feet on every stair
as i fled up to my room
away from Him with a bright red face
pulsing with rage
and eyes that looked like they wanted
to strangle me until my head popped off.

they smile at me widely,
eyes hopeful and forgetful
as they take my hands, telling me,

“Welcome home.”