Aiden and Betting

Then sit in shadows not able to see any of my own features as the coldness it posseses makes my bones feel like the thinnest ice.

I dont have a point in life I wish I could go back to.

My life isn't near any point I'd want to freeze in time.

So I still move forward to my son's due date.

Nothing but phantom pains, a picture without a frame, and a date that shifts life in a way that I cannot contemplate.

I miss my son.

And I know, I know that on my 30th birthday and every single one after?

Those candles.

Those god forsaken candles.

I'll wish for him every time.

Every single time.

Because I planned to have him blow them out for me every year.

But now I'll just wish he was here.

And use oxygen I feel like I never get enough of to blow them out alone.

And wish he was in every single place from here I ever call home.

Poem By Aiden O'Donnell

-------------------------x

Its an odd type of creation.

Not built entirely with will.

I remember being a child.

Slamming doors.

My mother and some sort of father fighting.

One it was fights where I'd be there after.

With the second?

A booming voice of a man.

Her pleading.

My hand on a door knob.

Ready to fight another man she chose.

Mentally preparing for a beating.

Then there would be silence.

Id put my ear to the door.

Give me a cue.

Give me a sign to open the door.

I'll run. I'll move. I'll fight for you.

I remember being a young adult.

I remember the singular hit that snapped me into a horrendous reality.

I was in it.

I was in a situation I was damn determined never to be in.

She wanted me to fight back. Hit back.

I remember shaking and telling her no.

That I'd never harm someone I loved like that.

It infuriated her. She told me that was how her family showed love.

Sure, mine did too.

So I trembled and went into the bathroom. Locked myself in it. Looking in the mirror as the bruise bloomed.

Give me a cue.

Give me a reason to open the door.

I'll run. I'll move. I'll fight for you.

What an odd thing it was to think it to myself when no one else knew.

No one on the other side of the door whispering to me though I couldnt hear

"I'll protect you if you give me any cue."

7 years blurred.

All types of abuse.

Addiction tapping back in again too.

I left in an ambulance.

I did subtraction.

Take one away from two.

It wasnt any longer "I'll fight for you"

It mutilated over years into.

"I'll die for all of you."

Some self proclaimed martyr.

No family. No friends.

A ghost of someone's daughter.

Its almost been two years now.

Ghosts instead of dates.

People that plan.

Then never make it to the set up date.

Now don't be mistaken, three men had shown up though, dont get me wrong.

All within one year.

Each with their own cause.

One ruined my brain.

The next stole my autonomy and left me with something it took two weeks to conceive.

The third lied so well, by definition a kidnap situation.

If you asked me on a bad day?

Id tell you it was hell.

I escaped all three.

By a hand on a door.

I gave myself a cue.

I burst through every door.

Its been 8 months now since anyone ever came through.

Most people dont even try to spend time within my life.

Screens are windows in.

But no doors open with someone coming in.

Not even in a romantic sense. But all the ones before it.

I sit alone in bed at night.

I hold myself in a sense for it.

For some kind of closure.

To cling onto composure.

I remember being twenty-one.

My mother kicking me out.

Hot on my heels. Venom she would spout.

I turned on my heels and I told her "get some help"

Her response seems like a curse all these years later.

"Every relationship youve had? Youve destroyed or youve ruined. It'll be the same every single time."

I froze and went rigid. I swallowed the bile.

"Did that make you feel better?"

She didnt have a follow up that time.

So now I don't know what to say.

Ive written millions of worlds where people like me find love that stays.

But as for me? The hopeless romantic?

I would say theres no hope.

Not when you gave your heart away for so much less than this.

So every single night I write till im tired.

I hold myself in my arms.

🦢🌅🥗❓️

Nicholas Sparks wouldn't write this as a book. Its not sad like a romance where you die with your one true love. Its sad because There are many things for me to eat and my brain is playing hard to get.

I cry a single tear every single time. 😢

(Crisis mode begins mentally)

Guy next to me: "...you know you could just put the other plate over that one."

Me: "ya know. I just JUST noticed and felt bad and you just had to point it out.... So. Anyways do we have wrap for plates?!" -gets up leaving plate-

Woman across from us: "you left your plate!"

Me: "WELL he pointed out I took two plates when I was already FULLY just now at least AWARE of it so I guess I chose to panic excuse myself!"

🪦🪑⛓️🕊

"We said that we would be the ones they talk about when they think of love.

Should've been us.

Losing you don't feel right, if we're really soul tied?

What do I do?"

-'Soul Tied', Ashley Singh