Prose he opened the screen door, smiled and said, "hello, beautiful "

[gypsiejunkie]

a man who can not
admit that he is wrong
is exactly that-
sometimes,
if you scream
and slam doors
and go outside
to lay on the
damp pullout couch
that you picked up
with the
“free” sign
you stole
while you
sing
and think about
these things,
sometimes,
“hello, beautiful”
is the apology
you are needing to hear
and words could do
no better.

when i was little
(small)
maybe five
even four years old
i would watch my
mother
cover her ears
and cry

we woke up to
holes in the walls
less money
and every now and then
something like
that broken knuckle.

my father
could hurt
my mother
who loved us
and sometimes
not often-
maybe once or twice
i thought
we would all
die
then and there
just like that.

i was scared
but i loved him
i loved him
with
all
of
my
heart.
all of it.

because
sometimes,
when the fight
started
so
so
small
they would
argue
over something like
the way he would
incessantly
chew on those red
two liter diet coke lids
(meth)
and spit them out
all over the house
in the corners of the kitchen
and living room.

they would argue
because everyone
that loves
argues
and the two
you find
arguing the most
are each
separately convinced
that they love
the other
(just a little bit
more)

but after some
time and always
silence,

(he would open the screen door,
smile and say, “hello beautiful”.)

my mother
she would not
blink
she would
glare.

my father would wait
because my mother
speaks in silence
and then we would know
he loved her.
and i was five
maybe even four
and i knew he loved her.
i knew he was sorry
everyone could see
he was sorry
nasa could see
he was sorry.

but my mother
she would never
blink.
and my mother
would never
speak
and
my heart
would break
and i would speak
with the silence
i learned from my mother.
i would plead
for her to see
that he was sorry
but she never–

 

[JimBobWho?]

I don't know what to say.