In the night

sometimes my kids say in their sleep,

“I need you Mama.”

I need you too.

I need you to heal this hole inside me.

It was formed when I was three.

“Mama, I need you”

but she wasn’t there.

She still isn’t there.

My mama picks rapists. Not me.

So I go to my kids.

I try to not wake them up with my crying.

I have to let the tears roll down my face in silence.

No shaking. Must not sob.

Mama. I need you Mama. Where are you?

Never again.

No comfort for me.

Just the comfort I give.

Calli says, “I need you Mama.”

I need you too.

You are all I have.