She keeps bringing me food, and I keep not eating it, but she wants to feel needed.
I smile and take each tray, stare at it on my lap, then set it on my nightstand.
But Mother doesn’t understand that soup can’t fix the kind of sick I am,
And anyway I forgot, I am much better now.

I pop two pills in my mouth, wash them down with water, and suddenly,
I don’t feel sad anymore. Mom says it’s partly a mental thing. I say it’s magic.
There’s something soothing in slipping away from reality, into this hazy whimsy,
For in my coma of drugs, I am ordinary.

She pats my shoulder and says she understands, yet I wonder if she possibly could.
Has she felt an incessant pounding in her heartstrings, as if she just might break?
Has she seen everlasting forests of black in her mind, as if she had just vanished?
Has she opened her mouth to scream, yet nothing was there, as if she had been erased?

A flash of lights moves on my eyelids, a muffled voice move towards my pillow,
But when I grasp consciousness, I see him.
Suddenly, I’m lifted by large, strong hands, but I cannot resist, I am trapped.
I’m whisked away to a deep darkness and entirely submerged.

She tells me it’s not my fault, and now, I’m safe in her arms. She will protect me.
But my bones still feel unsettled, as if some puzzle piece were missing.
I know I am better – that’s what the doctors said – but confusion rattles around inside.
If only I could remember why I ran, maybe then I could be at ease.

“Calm down, calm down, Caleb, it’s just me! Shut up, don’t make a big deal!”
His face was right on mine, his breath stale and his eyes glazed.
I saw guilt in his mouth though, the same guilt as when my sister snuck in late one night.
He knew what he was doing was wrong, that he was hurting me, but it couldn’t stop him.

“Caleb, you need to sleep.” Mother comes to my side and wraps me in blankets,
But I cannot escape from this dreary state of uncertainty. I must have answers.
“What happened to me, Mommy?” she leans down and kisses my forehead gently.
“Nothing, Caleb. You are just fine. You are safe. Now go on to sleep.”

He tucked me back in bed, whispered that he loved me, and closed the door.
But I couldn’t fall back asleep; fear struck every nerve and I was paralyzed till morning.
This happened regularly, and each night I grew more and more afraid of my father.
Until one night, Mother walked in. She cried, he yelled, and I ended up in a hospital.

I only remember fragments, tiny unrecognizable pieces that I can’t fit together.
And I’m trying to understand how I can be recovered when I don’t know what happened.
But I am much better now, I will be okay, I am safe, I shouldn’t make a big deal.
I am not depressed. I am not screwed up. I am just a little fractured.