I Am The Maker Of Homes - Written March 2022 as a outpouring of words that couldn't be stopped.
I am the maker of homes.
The maker of cosy spaces,
safe spaces.
I made them to keep you from harm.
And he ruined it.
He made my safe space unpredictable and weighted with gloom.
I made walls.
I grew hard.
I was supposed to be bathing in the soft glow of Motherhood.
He took that from me.
I stuffed my life down.
I cried in secret.
I tried to keep the weight of his depression from enveloping us.
I put myself last.
He took my wind and my joy.
I resent what he took from me and what I let him take.
I was not strong then.
I did what I was supposed to do.
Stay together for the child.
Make it work for her.
It will never work.
In my innocent home.
Baby clothes hanging.
My baby asleep.
You returned drunk and useless.
I thought you were a cunt as I hung on for moments of peace.
of sleep.
of time to shower.
I relied on you to give me these gifts.
You kept the gifts for yourself through thoughtless acts of sabotage.
Of drinking and drugs and no returns.
You turned my home into a balancing act.
A place of insecurity
of guilt
and worthlessness.
You made it ugly.
I may hate you forever for all that you stole.
I forgive myself for the part that I played now that I see,
I am the maker of homes, safe spaces and me.
