Overcome with pain and rage
You were suppose to be there for me but
You never were.
You claim to love me, but
You don't know the first thing about me.
Mom, yout internalized sexism
Has me constantly on the offence. Bombarded by the constant "reassurance"
Of my worth through the power of my hips.
No power in my lips. No power in my words.
You won't listen, you think my feelings are absurd.
Day in and day out, you pressure me and expect me not to pout.
I'm full of doubt? You want me to know the ***** things I spur between men's ears?
I am disgusted, where once I would have trusted
You. Back again with your defense of man and belittlement of me and who and how I am.
I won't smile and say thank you. No. *******.

I'm so afraid to be myself that I
find that I am in a constant state of self-restraint and I'm
too afraid to instigate
a moment of honesty.
I know that when left unchecked my words come out like vemon and I'm
so afraid to be myself that I
stutter and quiet I shut the shutters and I,
lock myself inside a house that I'm
desperate to share with someone else.

Each night it is the same.  I whisper your name as if to somehow save myself from this pain.
It's inside me, like some parasite that feeds and feeds on my greed.
I want you, but it's not a need.  That's what I tell myself, but I'm down on my knees.

Can you help me? I gasp as I realize that I can not breathe.  Can you help me?  I know better than to plead, but I can't seem to get up off my knees and I find myself starting to bleed.

Do you see me?  How could you?  I'm invisible in my silence, in my anguish, but I'm just a child.

I'm just a child.

Did you give it a second thought?  When you left? Used and discarded and left here to rot?  Let's hope not, but weather it be ignorance or maliance you've done it and I'm bitter and spoiled.
A little brat, I'm bruised like a piece of fruit. You took a bite and decided the flavor was not for you? You threw me and here I've landed in the dirt. Is this my worth?

No, more than what you've took.  One day I'll stand again. I'll withstand it all and bloom once again.

I have never stuttered in pen
misspoken in ink
or choked in my writing
the way I do
whenever I speak
my fingertips always know
the right words to say
my tongue is still learning

I want to tell you that I love you.  But I am worried it would be a mistake.  That uttered from my mouth these words would send you away from me.

I love you.

Words I’ve kept close to my heart.  Shut in my mouth.  Too many times I have buried them when  looking at you. So often in my life I have kept them to myself, but everyone knew.

I love you,

Spoken with my eyes and with my touch, but I still wonder how could I ever be good enough?

Language is nothing but a tool.  Imperfect and riddled with error, but with the power to take a thing and crystalize it into reality.

I often question the harm those words could do.

I love you.

But do you, love me too?

What is this thing I am aiming at? What is love at all when still experienced individually? Could love be the thing that closes the gap between you and me? Or will it forever be a fabrication of animal minds, pre committed to this illusion of separateness?

Thing is though…

I love you

I keep getting older
But she always stays the same
The girl in my dreams
Who never seems to go away

She's here because I love her
That's a thing that could never change
She's here because I want her
But things didn't turn out that way

This haunting has got me all twisted
Caught up in my own thoughts
But this story that I'm weaving
Is lacking a subplot

She comes to me when I'm sleeping
Casting this spell on me
And I can't help but be compelled
To play out this fantasy