scratch

once i painted a rainbow 

just to cover it in 

thick. black. wax.

so that

our daughter 

could scratch it off

to make pictures 

with glimpses of the rainbow underneath 

i tried not to but

i thought of you

my rainbow 

who covered all his colors 

thick. black. dark.

i couldn’t even scratch 

the layers so deep

and my fingers 

desperate and frantic 

bloody and broken 

bones shattering 

beneath your words

now, i, too

add layers over your rainbows

that only exist in my mind now

memories that assault me 

in the quiet moments of the night

or when our daughter dances on stage

so i paint them 

with wax so thick

and dark

and deep

and full of hate

that my sharp, pointed, splintered shining claws

can never reach underneath 

because if i don’t hate you

what then?