Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Boo hoo.

I used to love you, you know.

When you were a tiny seed – a fond reminder of a one-night stand, a booze-filled night (aren't they all?) of passion

I loved you.

I looked down at the bubble gum shell of my stomach (how small you must be) and pictured a little girl

With dark pigtails and my own electric eyes overflowing with loving caresses

And smiled.

When I finally had evidence of my leather-bound romance inside me always

I knew that you were my forever and that forever was now mine.

You were the knot that connected my heart to his – my fairy tale knight come to ride off into our faded blue-jean sunset

And I knew you would be cradled between our calloused and weathered hands.

I always wanted a baby; a mewing bundle of fingernail eyelashes and "Mama" cries

To hug and lavish and parade around for all to envy (and oh, how they would).

And when you erupted out of me, a babe born of fire and fury

You were all I'd hoped for.

Dark hair (you got it from me)

The pointed nose

The proud chip, tipped up at the world ("Good day")

And the eyelashes – coal black

You were perfect

And I loved you.

But as you grew older, your innocently curious eyes (wondering-wishing-hoping) transformed into

Fearful holes of tar, refusing to rest upon my shadowy image (how long can I exist without you?) for longer than a ruby moment

And I hated it.

Every moment that your wide eyes would contort in fear, I had to recall the fear-seasoned moments when my own eyes would do the same

As his cinderblock fist would clench my hair, his soft lips murmur words of jagged hatred into my ear.

I wondered with a twisted maniac grin if you were any better than me

And I reassured myself (Did it really work?) saying,

"He's stronger than me."

But years upon years covered your innocence with concrete, and I wanted to root for you (You deserve a million cheerleaders)

And I tried to strengthen you with dagger words and pixie slaps, for they are nothing to his

But you just looked upon me with tree-hollowed eyes, holy holes of horror.

I cannot help but hate you for your weakness

For the nights that I spent praying for your strength

For the eyes that mimic my own

For the man that you have permanently glued to me.

And now, when I look upon you (how rarely) and your bruises are prominent, blue against white daisies

I can't help but think that you deserve the pain

For the pain you've caused me.

I used to love you, though.

I only hate you as much as I hate myself.

I don't know if I'm the only one who felt this way, but I was always really interested in Johnny's mom, for some reason. I decided to give her some depth. Hope this worked for you. If not, flames are accepted.