Can I love the way
that you love me
Like a tree within a certain frame
You've begun to bend yourself
so you can grow around me
But I've changed my growth path so many times before
I'm not able to bend without breaking
I greedily accept your nutrients
without providing adequate care
yet you persevere
Are you eating yourself
in an attempt to feed me

Am I the only one
Who feels the absence
The ghost of the comfort left behind
If I concentrate I can feel your arms around me
Can picture our last embrace
I hope it’s only me who grieves for us
The thought of you hurting only bears more weight on my chest

lulled into a false sense of security
I walk through life serenely in between
my thoughts of you
and when the memories arise
I feel the movement in my throat
as I struggle to remind myself
you can't hurt me anymore.
The poison you injected as you
took control away from me
continues to drain away too slowly,
and I am left to wonder if it will ever completely fade.
Did you get what you wanted?
I'm sure you don't remember me
But I will never be able to forget you

The rapid movement jolts me awake
the sound is muffled
someone is screaming
I can feel their hands shaking
They aren't normally afraid
The distinct click
I am shifted upwards
My brothers freed in quick succession
They do not normally leave so often
It's my turn now
and I feel the pulse
and I'm flying out but his hands are up
It is not supposed to be like this
Why are his hands up?
Why am I here if his hands are up?
I can see the fear etched in his face as he begins to fall
time suspends
I want to go back
I shouldn't be here
I shouldn't be here if his hands are up.
Why were they afraid?
He's afraid and his hands were up.

I thought it would have happened by now.

I’ve asked to die a thousand times
And yet you chose to take her
The first time I remember I was seven
And felt my mother was traitorous for telling my therapist
(Who had only just finished hearing that I was fine).
I asked again when I was nine.
My teacher and the nurse did not understand my anxiety.
I was made to feel as though I was
A bad child for having fears I could not control.
I have asked many more times
But eventually, I stopped asking and said,
Just take me when you want.
But you chose her.
I have to wonder,
Did she ask?
How could I know?
We met once or twice, but I could never pretend
To guess what was going on in her mind.
But I have to wonder why you took her
instead of someone like me.

You wrote a poem about flowers
And foolishly, I expected it to be about me.
It was about water, and thorns, and wilting.
And at the end, despite your intention, I was part of that flower.
       Water was when we met.
I poured my energy and time and thoughts
Into you as if wishing was enough to bring my
Hopes into fruition.
       Thorns were when you said you didn’t want to treat me better.
When you acknowledged the hurt and the pain
And said you wanted me but did not want to change.
So, I took the shears to myself and tried to cut out
Every piece of me that wanted you.
Because I would rather miss you,
Than have you half-heartedly.
       Wilting has only just ended.
You watched as I lost my petals,
Knowing just when to lull me into thinking you would
Remember to water me or
That you ever wanted to.
But today, the final petal has dropped
And it landed on,
“He loves me not.”