Mommy doesn’t laugh anymore.
She doesn’t hold me in her arms
And tell me that she loves me anymore,
Her eyes don’t shine anymore.
Daddy, Mommy doesn’t smile anymore.
And when I ask her why,
Too many onions to be cut
Too much dust to be cleaned
Too many dishes to be cooked
Too much smoke in her eyes
Too many bruises to be washed,
And too little time.
Late into the night
When I’m in my room,
Trying to fall asleep,
She must be scared,
Because everyone is scared of monsters,
And the last time I checked under my bed,
The monster looked like you.
I wonder how fast the heart beats
When that monster crawls under the sheets.
Because late into the night,
She sits on the edge of her bed,
And waits for the clock to strike quarter past eight
And for your hand, to strike her cheek.
Daddy, Mommy doesn’t fight anymore.
When I count on my fingers
The number of bruises that weren’t there the night before
And notice every time she winces because a muscle’s too sore,
She looks at me with blank eyes.
Daddy, Mommy doesn’t hide anymore.
There are times
When even though she’s alive,
I feel like Mommy doesn’t live anymore.
Like she doesn’t want to breathe anymore.
Even though she has spent all her days
Trying to be a good mother and a better wife
While all she wanted to be was free,
You should know that
Even though she’s made up of broken dreams and shattered hopes,
One day, she’ll just be.
Mommy wants to be free.
So, she dreams.