Why did you do it?
How do you feel?
Okay, but is it the daddy issues?
Regret isn't always instant, ya know?
Eventually, i will explode.
so i'm not what, sorry who, you wanted. maybe even needed. what is the difference. turn me over and get your kicks, did you think it was your eyes i wanted to see when i opened my own? you are nobody. not to me anyways. i wish you had blinded me: maybe i would have felt more. more than the voices. felt the music over your moans - that by the way sounded like you wanted me. felt what it was to be whole, full, content. everyday something feels like it does not belong in me and you were no exception. when you breathed into my neck it was no cold biting breeze but the memory of moments before my dog threw up in my lap - at least he looked apologetic. but i let you take it and now it's yours and that is fine by me but you have this problem where you don't know when to close your mouth and maybe if you had ever put it to use i could forgive you. insult me. please. you don't know how good it feels to have my worthlessness validated by a stranger. someone who doesn't understand my jokes and my biting comments: alienates my tongue and forces it back into hiding. the moment i felt a crack following the path your fingers had once whispered into my skin: i felt home. back to base one. back to being an infant learning how to operate these strange extensions of my body - which brought me back to you, who taught you to use those fingers? i wonder if you can hold a fork, is it crooked? the moment you couldn't peel a tangerine i should have known better. speaking of, i know i do. and i want to say it wasn't what you did or didn't do but there was a lot you skipped over. i can see you're impatient, impolite, even impotent on occasion and i have to ask: how do you support yourself on such shaky arms? i truly didn't think you'd make it through the whole, what was it, 15 (?) minutes. and what did you want? a prize? a pat on the back? for ******* and spewing your loneliness into me? lips too big, neck too long, decision making skills nonexistent, looked like your last girlfriend - did I miss anything else that was wrong? did my catholicism make it better? did that help you mount the white steed, you were no prince charming and the dragon was better company. did it hurt me, to be rejected that is, only about as much ***** as it took to laugh about it. does it haunt me? like every mistake i have ever made: but it's no big deal, you're bottom of the pile. that should please you, you couldn't hold yourself on top anyways.

I was a stranger to closeness. To entangled arms and whispered conversations. To tracing lines in my palms like a map, to fingers drawing down my back. Exposed but not uncomfortable. I had never been held. And the thought bewildered me as I realized that my companion thus far was loneliness. Loneliness like a pill I could not swallow so I learned to breath around and wait out. How do I explain this loneliness? It gutted me until empty was normal and the dull ache was a regular occurrence. Like the desperate need to cry out all the water lingering in my body but having nothing to give. Shaking and fighting against the vile feeling in my throat that would never move. I was accustomed to loneliness but how could I not be when I'd never been held, or touched, or felt like I was worthy of love? I blamed my body, adopted silence, fuelled with anger as time passed and I waited, I waited, I waited, and waited - for nothing.
Nothing could ease what I had never known but somehow always desired. And here it was, real, and it felt right, why would I say no to the feeling I begged to taste. It didn't leave my tongue numb, it didn't let me down. It wasn't what they told me it would be. It didn't feel like I was giving anything away. It felt like being held, being whole, my numbness subsided as I just felt. Felt my loneliness melt away, felt my skin being brushed and caressed, not loved but not alone. It wasn't beautiful but it was more than I had before and I clung to it until I couldn't anymore and in my car the loneliness buckled itself in and I drive it home where it helped me wash my face clean and wrapped itself around me like my blankets as I caved into the hollowness of its home. I realized I don't have to drown with my anchor heavy heart. I could find closeness in a stranger.

How long will it take her to understand that your blood is laced with loneliness?
That the smoke staining her tongue cannot subdue the angry taste of your mouth?
That the hands that hold her neck want to strangle the air encased under skin
and no song
or word
or feeling
can dilute you.
why did I wish you cared enough to **** the life out of me?
Why I wasn't enough to ****.
You play with my insecurities like kittens,
laughing at how they can't jump high enough
teasing with what's just out of reach,
I was a mouse weaving through the holes
I thought
I had gnawed in you
but your hands stopped me in my place:
put me in my place.
I am nothing but a comfort when the weight of the world
lands on your chest,
I'm your oxygen mask
as the plane starts to crash
and you swore up and down you loved me
but years have made it clear you don't know what that means.
Your words are an empty void
I would gravitate towards them,
let myself get ****** in
you told me I'm different
that you didn't want to hurt me
though years of pain beg to differ.
I should have called you puppet master  
instead I called you dear
and I have realized I deserve better,
that I don't have any more years to give you,
but I still craved your attention
and your jealousy
as though I could teach you love and how to feel it right.
But at 16 I had you figured out;
you've only regressed since then.
and I should be used to people letting me down;
etching their names in my heart as a reminder
but you were supposed to be the cure.
The end to my self imposed suffering.
You bring no good to me,
trap me in the light of the child I used to be,
and your name haunted my lips like the last time you
kissed
me
but none of this would ease how I wanted you to hurt me.
Prove you cared with your actions.
Your words are white noise.
I need to focus on the swollen melody my heart is performing.
But how do I find closure,
To what will always feel

He is screaming with frustration,
throwing objects like fits,
trying to contain his shrills but they
break through in shrieks
so I hold him.
He grumbles and growls wanting me
to leave. I just rub his back.
Slow circles; with my other arm
wrapped around him
like he is still a child.
I remind him to breathe
and tell him to try again tomorrow
and he huffs
but I can feel him releasing his anger
relaxing.
The tension in his body dissipating
until he is ready for me to
let go.
He picks up broken pieces
from the floor
tries to put them back together
the best he can  
I leave him to do this.
He never questioned my fear of the dark
when I would sneak away at night,
he eagerly awaited to hear my stories
and would hug me
no matter how hard I pushed him
away.
This is a love that can withstand
fights for the mirror
battles over school.
He is ever changing,
becoming someone new everyday
but when I hold him
he is still five
and braver than I.
He is stronger and kinder.
When I was his age
he could not understand
why I would cry in the other room
and bite at the ankles of anyone
who dared to step too close.
But I understand him.
The anger that lingers beneath skin
always ready to consume
and dominate.
This household is like
a pack of matches  
once he ignites he is forgotten
because we all burn up and out
without listening to his pain.
I remember that feeling,
it never fully goes away.
It is not something we speak of
but something we feel
and when he needs me to hold him
I will never be too far.
He has my ears,
my arms,
and always
my heart.

Tell me why I see him, why I dream of him and wake up longing. Analyze why I can feel him in my unconscious and not cringe, why he doesn't provoke my paralysis or night terrors. That's why I'm here anyways, I need to be fixed. My brain must be broken, cracked down the middle like glass splinters that allow him to seep into my sleep like a lullaby. Get rid of him as I have done in my waking state. I no longer want to dream fondly of his mother or drive down the royal road in his car. Interpret why I take rest to the memories of us laughing and drink him like wine until claimed by sheets. That's your job. Hypnotize me, convince me he never existed, or to forget the way his face looks at least: remind me why he made me scream and cry when he never get his way or how empty I would feel when he talked about the things he loved and I was never one. Show me how to cope, teach me to control my unconscious so I can choose to not see him, so I can turn my back on him before he does me. Exterminate him from my mind, tell me I am crazy, prescribe me pills or send me away, shock me with as many bolts as it takes until the bruises on my leg stop reminding me of his hands, until I forget who he is awake and asleep, lobotomize me if you must because it hurts! It really ******* hurts. Tell me why I was given a heart if it was to be broken, a life if it was to be wasted, a body if it was to never be loved. But that's not your job. So please, just help me sleep.