Brennan Thomas
A Mother’s Love
“I love you, but I don’t accept you.”
As if you fitting the version of yourself that they created is a prerequisite to their love
I will love you only if...
“I love you, but I don’t believe you.”
Does that not mean that your love is dependent on a fixed reality?
As soon as I am not what you see and know
Somehow I am made to be less
Love is supposed to be unconditional
These conditions are forcing me to be someone I am not
I am NOT your daughter
I never was and never will be
I have been playing a game of pretend for years
For so long that I’m not ever sure when I started
I know this now
I know who I am
You tell me I am being influenced, that I’m just trying to fit in
I have felt this hollowness
This weight; a suffocation, dragging this body that I never felt at home in
I never understood what it was like to feel free
That moment - a single significant moment - when I finally had a word for what it was
The shape of it like honey, sweet and right, in my mouth
A breath that had been trapped in my lungs - finally released
Purity, euphoria that encased me like seeing the first touch of light in the sky after a night of darkness
Then every day after that was an awakening of its own
New clothes that felt like a balm on my skin
A haircut that brought me to tears
Pronouns I never allowed myself to hear before
And a name
My name
Finally uttered by trusted friends
Still, you maim me for such happiness
You don’t understand
But how could you?
You never wanted to talk about it
You try your best I’m sure
Snail pace you travel
Yet I feel you don’t truly see me
All I ever wanted - all I want - is for someone to see me
The real me
For you to see me as your son
As a man who tries to be himself in this world as much as he possibly can
Does your love only extend to me if I am your daughter?
I never thought I’d have to think: is a mother’s love enough?
Call Me By My Name
Laughter rang in my ears last night
You were happy
A thick, black fog moved over me until I was suffocating
Hot tears fell down my face and you were in the other room unaware
You don't know how it affects me
A knife between my ribs, slicing into my flesh
My entire body fleshy and soft like a mollusc ready to be eaten
You take and feast and leave me bare
When will it end? I ask myself
When will you open your eyes to my pain?
Call me by my name
If you pulled out all my insides would you like what you see?
Am I different on the inside if the outside finally reflects me?
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet
I have to bend myself into shapes that you see fit
The parts of myself that aren't really me so you can be happy
I'm an impossible mixture of everything I had to pretend to be
I want to be seen
Brennan Thomas is a writer from South Africa. He loves reading and spending time in nature. His poetry and fiction have been published or are forthcoming in PunkMonk, Cloves, and Mental Rhythm Magazine.
Find him on twitter: @brennanwrites1
Or visit his website: https://brennan-thomas.wixsite.com/main