Jelani Penny-Johnson

All You Had Was Me

It’s my fault that you were born broken.
Tokens of my scorn trickled and formed a sickle.
I veiled my ails in soft porn and fickle tales.
The firstborn of the grim reaper,
I saw you die again and again.
Supplied you with sin and chagrin,
the scars of my scarcity.
I made our house a prison
with bars of barbiturates.
Chaining us in a nightmare.
Every time I went to sleep I hoped I didn’t wake.
Thanatos, consumed biers.
Inhumed fears in pills,
made holes to fill my grave.
It never worked.
The dirt was merely thrown on your name.
Weeds grew from the letters and ensnared me.
Making me spell love with derision.
Fragile emotions that turned to shards in my diction,
and you swallowed them whole.
I was worse than nothing.

The December of each dog day derived from our discussions.
My dictionary formed a dagger and splintered your soul.
Cutting you, cracking you, caulking you with my faults.
Fault lines on your flesh from my food of thought.
Each plate was tectonic.
Our lowest points, I saw your bed rock.
While my bed was slick inside.
Security, I knew naught.
Insecurities from my noose formed new knots around your head.
I was Icarus to my son,
burning when I got close.
Stepping into my mother’s tracks,
walking inside her ghost.
My hands resembled hers.
Your palms, the same as mine.
Holding women like me,
wounding them out of spite.
Oedipus in our Erebus.
Forced to be our own heroes,
we couldn’t save each other.

I had to be the way I was.
A veer you lent to my venom,
moving from this vile creature.
But it was too late.
My vitriol dropped,
each droplet becoming you.
And I poured you into my glass.
Spilt bottles became our earth.
You didn’t revere your worth,
and left me.
I got older,
each year lessened my daze.
You can only stay high for so long.
Never received a call.
I soon believed in tears.
A silent demise.
You didn’t mourn me.
You didn’t visit.
You didn’t love me.
You’ll never love me.
You’ll never forgive me.
I’m sorry.
You were never at fault for being born.
I’m sorry it took my death to realize.
I was born broken and broke you for solace.
Never meant to be a parent,
it was apparent I hated myself.
I should have been better.
You needed me to be better.
All you had was me.