I Forgive You as a Wife, But as a Mother, Never
I’ve swallowed pain like bitter stone, turned a house to dust, yet called it home. Held my breath through every fight, wore my wounds beneath the light.
For years, I begged, for years, I stayed, lost myself in love’s decay. I told myself that time could mend, but monsters do not learn to bend. so for me, I’ll cut the ties, wipe the tears, uncloud my eyes. For every scar, for every night, I set my heart and soul alight.
But for my son… there’s no peace, no words to make his sorrow cease. He trusted you, his tiny hands, reached for love you crushed like sand.
How do you harm the softest skin? Ignore the light that burned within? Steal the safety from his chest, leave him lost like all the rest?
No, for him, I’ll stand my ground, build a world where love is sound. Where hands don’t hurt, where words don’t kill, where home is safe, and hearts can heal.
And for my daughter… she will see, that love is strong, but love is free. Not something begged for, bruised, or tamed, not something whispered, drenched in shame.
She’ll never flinch at anger’s roar, mistake control for something more. She’ll know her worth, she’ll stand up tall, she’ll never think she has to crawl.
So take the past, take what you’ve done, take your shadow, take your songs… not as a prize, not as your own, but as the proof that love is gone.
He will not break, she will not bend, this story finds a different end. And for me? I rise, I stand, I sever…
I forgive you as a wife,
but as their mother?
Never.
