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Cold shoulder,
Sleepy grumble.
A berate about the sheets,
A tough act.
You seem so dominating,
I love to see you soft.
Kissing the backs of my hands,
Pressing to my forehead.
Whimpers with my hands in your hair,
Tongue so eagerly licking into my mouth.
You worship me.
And I adore you
You are my best friend,
My other half,
My favorite Puzzle Piece.
You are summer nights and fair rides
You are watching video games,
Making potions,
reassurances.
You are love
Why
I am exhausting.
The evidence is in my mother's eyes,
The tensing of shoulders when I call my partner pretty,
The tortured yes when I ask to see my friends,
The disappointed sigh when I am excited about books and movies.
It's in my father's voice when he asks about my faith
when they ask why I can't just be content.
It's in the way I hear them argue about me,
It is in the way I am never enough until I am too much,
Never enough to convince my father to go to therapy,
Never enough to be the one protected from books,
Never enough to be believed,
And then I am too much,
Drowning everyone around me,
Selfish, dark, a ruiner,
Screaming to be cared for,
Screaming to be listened to.
I stopped asking, I stopped showing my want
Tugging knees to myself to be less,
Sparing cash and care when I'm broke and tired,
And you ask why, why, why,
But I can't explain cause you never listened in the first place.
It is mortifying to be loved by you.
You aren't good
But you're my father,
And you've never hit me,
But you never truly loved me
At least not the way I wanted
I am a God,
A being never believed or understood,
Begging to be loved and seen,
And I am a Girl
A being never believed or understood,
Begging to be loved and seen,
And maybe these are the same
And maybe we are all just crying in the dark,
Afraid to be alone,
And ready to be worshipped.
If energy cannot be created or destroyed,
just change forms,
then I am born of grief,
If I am made from something,
I was knit from love after death,
The weight of memories with no place to put them down,
I am the care and adoration that dies in your throat,
The loneliness in a crowd,
The sadness in your bones,
The shame for growth,
The crime of happiness.
If I am made from anything,
It is grief.
You deserved so much more than what you were given,
My love,
You deserve the smell of rain on concrete,
Of crying in a lover’s arms,
Hands through your hair,
Hugs from behind,
Swaying in an embrace as you make pasta,
Pj days and thrifting hauls,
And someone who will pick up your room and bring you cocoa when you can’t get out of bed.
My Darling,
You deserve the world,
And everything it has to offer.
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