I am cynical
I am lost
I tie anchors to my feet
and complain when I drown
I am clingy, corrupt
I need so many people
yet I push them away
when they get too close
I am broken
I am scarred
I build my walls
and I tear them down
I'm lonely, tired, sad
I am a mess.
Make sense of me?

he made me stop saying those three words
that made it feel okay
he said stop saying that,
it doesn't feel
right
anymore.

after he took it
(ripped it, snatched it, shook it)
from me
he didn't let me say
Those three overused words
said by overused girls
anymore.
because it didn't feel
right

did it feel
right

squeezing my wrists so
tight

pinning me down
on one of your drunken
nights

thrashing into
me
with all your
might

not letting me
Fight.

he didn't let me say the three words
that made it feel okay
he had to take
every last trace of innocence
  away

Naps,
And neck kisses.
Sleepy warmth.
Your hand brushes away curls
That my hand misses.
Watching lazy movies,
Being held in your content arms
You Breathe in my hair.
You mumble,
  it smells tropical,
And much too good.
You say,
I'd keep you here forever,
If I could.

Toward the sun closer growing
And blooms swell in humid air
Dripping with a morning dew

A hand
Soil beneath its nails
Touch caked in dirt
She approaches
Silently she watches
As sweat drips from my brow

My dog watches for a moment
Her standing til he goes to her
For ear scratching
I am not so easily swayed
But about her finger I am played
She and I speak not a word
But I know my love she's heard
My eyes I cannot disguise

I am proud of each sprout
Simple growth
Her fingers are more satisfying
Than hard days work