Honest Toys.

I remember my friend on my lap..staring up at me.
The screams got louder and louder... until it was over.

he would lay with me and stare at my tear filled eyes...

Every other stuffed animal, the "grown ups" gave me...at those parties..
where everything is about becoming happy, for the "happy" birthday.
had pink tongues, happy stars on their eyes..smiles

...a hope..I couldn't read, once It was time to go home.

My new friend...had drooping cheeks..
eyes that reflected a monster version of my face..
its like he knew, better than I....what would happen to me...



no matter how I put him on the "perfect" bed my mother put together...
its like he knew , my secret life...and it pained him greatly...

he would stare.....
as social worker's black boots quietly circled the mothers perfectly adorned house....
the princess sheets she put the night before.....

My friend, he sat there with eyes that were so honest  to my pain...as I painted a smile up at the social worker. 
he was the only one who would not paint a smile..
he knew my father dragged me into the bathroom...
he knew my mother hurt me..
he knew the social worker would not see..

I know he remembers more than I can.

my little stuffed dog..
you are more honest than I, I love you.