Page 17 of Poetry of Flowers

Mom

My heart beat so fast against my chest, I feared it might jump out, or I would have a heart attack. I picked up the other letter and read the date, it was my sixth birthday. The day my father started hating me.

Dear Kayden, June 3rd, 2011

Hello my sweet boy, today you turned six. We had thrown you the party you were so excited about. All your friends were here, and you even let Tillie help you blow out your candles. You two are so adorable. I wish the day had ended differently.

I had asked Patrick to go find a lighter, so we could light up the candles, but he didn’t come back, so I searched for him and found him reading a letter I had written to you two years ago, telling you Joyelle knows about it because she’s my best friend and noticed something was up. Patrick was furious, he yelled at me how I could have lied about it and cheated on him in the first place.

I know it was wrong, I just wanted to feel real love for once, and I made a mistake. I thought everything was great between us again.

Patrick and I were never in love like Joyelle and Jonas were, but after that day, I don’t think anything will ever be the same again. He said he wants us to stay together for Faith because she’s only three.

We decided not to tell you, Patrick said he didn’t want you to know because it would destroy what we built.

I am truly scared of him right now.

I love you, my boy.

Love,

Mom

When I dropped the letters on my mother’s desk, I was shaking. There was a small Polaroid in the file. I grabbed it and let myself fall on the floor, trying to catch my breath.

Clark Bressett & Olivia Paul

The picture showed a young man with midnight black hair kissing the side of my mother’s head. They both looked like the picture was taken when they were still in high school.

This had to be a stupid joke, this couldn’t be real.

Shoes - July 23, 2013

My mother’s shoes are too big for my feet.

I wonder where my pink sneakers are?

Where is the glitter?

The soles of my feet are sore.

It hurts.

This never happened with my sneakers.

There is so much room and I am slipping.

It’s hard to walk in shoes that aren’t mine.

I miss my little sneakers.

In them, I never lost hold.

I hate my mother’s shoes,

But they are mine now.

ChapterFive

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