(precursor: im a little insecure about my writing since my ability to write well has gone down from drug abuse :,) this is the first poem i've written in about a year, it's based off the true story of my now-deceased father telling me he was assaulted by a priest, but it's also kind of a genuine letter to him. im seventeen and have only been published once before so help is really appreciated).

TW: child sexual abuse, suicide

———

To Mr. White,

you weren’t there on my ninth birthday,

but he’d already tainted me by then.

as pink cotton bled brown,

i knew god wouldn’t save me

& on my thirteenth birthday,

beneath the hymn of fluorescent lights & static yellow, cigarette-stained walls

you had a secret to take to the grave,

so you took it to me.

confessions of being a preacher’s lamb,

sacrificial & puppeteered

at only six years old,

“like father, like daughter” you bellowed,

though your crows feet dampened.

i never ate my cake that night

& two years later,

you committed suicide.

i envisioned the priest at your wake,

screaming the holy spirit into my aunts or

my pastor, whispering of secrecy

& false promises.

i knew god wouldn’t save me,

but i prayed he didn’t save you–

let him save the priests,

but not their bible-beating sons

& the wives,

but not their rosary-bearing daughters

for we deserved somewhere else;

somewhere safer than heaven

Love,

A

––

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