Pleading Gets You Nowhere
The first time I pled with God, your mother
was tangled within the tubes snaking in and out of her
body, weak and fragile. Due to her skull
not being able to hold the muscle within. You saw her
collapse and I saw it eat you away
inside. The fear took up so much
space, we couldn’t be in the same room.
The second time I pled with God, I saw the messages
you sent to your best friend, speaking of a different
girl, doing things with her when you promised those
actions were saved only for me. I knew her
well, yet stayed because boys will be
boys and maybe that’s true and I
blamed myself for not understanding things
I didn’t know.
The last time I pled with God, everything
was over. While thinking we could grow together,
you wanted to pull us apart. The ring that lived on
the fourth finger of my hand got evicted, now at home
in a box, in a closet. You asked for it back but I am
not turning around and returning what is mine.
Everything went beyond wrong and it seemed
so out of hand. I ran out of options, with no idea of
what else to do, I started to beg in case I was wrong and it
would make a difference. It never did. I did everything I could
to save her. You. Us. It never worked so I got sick of screaming
to a God I never thought existed. My mouth begging
for things I never know will come true.
After you left me for the fourth time, the final time.
I realized how much I depended on you or others or
even a higher power. When I realized this, I stopped pleading.
Instead of pleading, I started to depend on myself, I
keep alcohol in my veins when I’m alone, have smoke
stored in my lungs when I’m with others. I only allow my mouth
to beg for things that I know I can provide,
Skylar Jones is a junior attending UNCG and majoring in psychology. Her works delve into heartbreak, depression and other troubling and sometimes eerie topics. She hopes that her words can evoke powerful emotion.