To The Abusive Father Who Thought He Could Break Me
I once told you “no” for the first time and the back of your hand met my cheek with a violent kiss that painted it a deeper scarlet than any shade of lipstick that has ever touched my lips.
I once told you “no” for the first time and the back of your hand met my cheek with a violent kiss that painted it a deeper scarlet than any shade of lipstick that has ever touched my lips.
It was then that I accepted not all things had to be whole to be functional, that not all broken things are useless.