Listen
While I cry to you all the wrong of the world.

Hold me
While you whisper to me all of her beauty.

you blame your past self
say you were so **** stupid...
but they're just a kid.

You can't open  the session with,
"How suicidal have you been feeling?"
And expect me not to immediately shut down.

"[Deadname], I know you're not..."
Choose your words carefully.
"stupid,"
Score.

"I know you can do it, you just choose not to."
It was never a choice, just a response.

"Come on, [deadname], just talk to me."
How am I meant to tell you to tell you of the deepest darkest parts of myself when you don't even know
my name.

Mama and papi
Fighting over whose paying the mortgage.

Gotta spend less on vacations,
Outings,
Birthdays,
Treats,
Heat,
Groceries.

Guilt
Gu­ilt
Guilt.

Mama and papi
Fighting over how they're splitting bills.

Saying he pays too much,
Saying that he can handle it.
Saying she gets anxious,
Saying how he's in pain.

Guilt
Guilt
Guilt.

Why do thwy do this anyway?
Asking, asking,
Why they'd sacrifice so much?

For you.
Yeah, for you.
You ungrateful waste of space, time, money.

Guilt
Guilt
Guilt.

My love,

I missed you,
The way you held me and caressed.
Distracted me from all else
and kept me safe from my fears.

You traced my body like I was a sculptor
That you just had to make perfect.
I wanted so badly to be perfect.

I didn't mind fitting in the cusp of your hand, edge of your blade.
But they say you chipped away at me, make me smaller.

Isn't that what sculptors do?

...

They took you away from me, my love, I'm sorry.

But as I let go,
I was able to rebuild what you broke.

It was never you who broke me though, was it?
It was me, really, allowing you to do so.
And just as I am enabled destruction, I am able to recover.

My scars heal,
But still they remind me of you.
I miss you, so much so that sometimes I go back,
But I now know that I am more than your rigid sculpture,

I am the ever-changing product of my own acts of creation.