Sarah Cunningham

Home

CW: Abuse

home

a building, a word, or a bone a place where dogs lay bones i have to pick with absentee fathers and emotionally unavailable mothers no i didn’t stutter i said i have a bone to pick with absentee fathers and emotionally unavailable mothers

who tell you you’re incomplete, but broke you in the first place hammer to your heart as she hurts you in the worst way now you’re healing from the worst pain

standing stagnant, an empty vase trying to refill what you’ve poured out your substance so satisfying; gratifying greedy souls yet, you’re “selfish” and “needy”

Sarah Cunningham

the bones of my body rattle and cry out aching as they form wishbones breaking apart wishing that the family-sized kitchen table with a loose leg and no chairs could support this heavy burden

my joints unhinge my members, dismembered no longer present in body, but mentally lodged between couch cushions, remote buttons, and loose change forgotten things accompanied by “wassaname”

i’ve got bones to pick for years i’ve kept them buried afraid to wake up the slumbering beast knocked out in the backyard first name, familial nickname trauma either way, he’s the gatekeeper of this house

oh, and absentee fathers, well that milk won’t buy itself they never hold up on their promises they just disappear, leaving you with an empty jug of milk on your shelf