✶ dear god, fuck you for this

nah

where the fuck were you?
where the actual fuck were you
when i was getting
punched in the fucking head
by another fucking liar
who said he loved me?

where the fuck were you
when i got fucking married
with your fucking jewelry on?

yeah,
babe,
i wore
one of the fucking earrings
you gave me
when you fucking swore
to fucking god
you’d never leave me
alone out here
to fucking die.

you left me
for some dude
who stole
fucking everything from me,
probably fucked a coworker,
and almost fucking killed me—
all while you knew
there was literally fucking no one
to fucking protect me.

where the fuck were you?
fucking hiding.
fucking feeling sorry
for yourself.

did you think your silence
would be quieter than the sound
of my skull cracking
on the goddamn floor?

you showed me
one fucking second
of softness.
one flash of fucking safety.
one glimpse of what
it could feel like
to not be dying all the fucking time.

and then?

you fucking bailed.
you left me
in the middle of a fucking war
you helped me believe
i wouldn’t have to
fucking fight alone
for fucking ever.

congratu-fucking-lations.
i made it out.
i fucking guess.
but i had to
fucking crawl through hell
while bleeding
from my fucking pussy,
my face,
and my bank account
just to keep a kid fed
on a single digit
fucking checking balance
and zero fucking backup.

you knew.
you fucking knew.
i didn’t need perfection.
i needed protection.
and you weren’t fucking there.

so fuck the stars.
fuck the healing.
fuck the
“everything happens for a fucking reason”
fuck god,
fuck fate,
fuck forgiveness.

fuck you
for putting this
fucking story in my hands
and leaving me to
fucking write it alone.

you know
how many times
i almost died?
and i thought—
if he knew,
would he fucking come?

but you never did.
even when i tried.
yo.
this isn’t vengeance.
it’s not a fucking
blame piece.
it’s a goddamn funeral.

for my fucking hope.

because i’m so fucking tired.
because i didn’t want
to do this alone.
because i didn’t want
to be this fucking strong.

i wanted you to stay.
and now i have
this beautiful little girl.
and i’m so fucking grateful.
but i am so fucking tired.
and every time
she smiles at me
and calls me mama
and reaches for me
while i’m fucking sobbing—
i think about how
it all started
with a miscarriage
and a man
who didn’t know
what to do with pain
except run.

if you’re still reading,
i hope
some part of you aches.

not for me.
but for the version of you
who couldn’t stay
when it mattered most.

because i’m still here.
fucking bleeding.

bruised.
brilliant.
burning.

but never fucking saved.

😭