You did not carry me with you for nine months but you helped me grow. You did not hold my newborn body and feel full of love but you held my thirteen month old self and decided to be mine. You did not need to fight but you did. You fought so hard for a child you loved. So when did I become a young woman you could not stand? When did you feel the pour of love for me stop? When did I develop a personality you found you could not love? That’s all I could think as I watched the road slip away, getting closer to you handing me over. 

I deserved for you to love every broken part of me. Every part of me that was too shattered for me to love on my own. I needed you to. You were the second chance I had at a mother, the one person in the world that was supposed to love me more than anything. And neither of you could. Instead, I was torn down with looks that spoke of resentment and words that dripped with acidity. Instead, I was set alight by your past flames. Instead, I was shrunk down by pressure. But, by killing my soul you were creating something beautiful and worthy. 

Still, when you stepped out of your shiny new car without a glance towards me,  I knew I needed to stop hoping.  The empty feeling that filled me when you barely touched me in a forced hug was like a black hole that consumed me. 

I tried as hard as I could though you always said it was never enough. I did more than my best. I did more than give it my all. I poured out my soul to make you happy and I gave you my fire so you could stay warm. But my soul was inadequate and my flames never gave enough warmth. You abused my heart and mind then begged them to love you. And so, when they shied away from you and you were hurt by this there was nothing more I could give to show you my desire to be your daughter.