leafing through my pages you found your favorite song
dipped between the lines time and time again ‘til it feels all too familiar
repetition ‘til there’s no more thrill.
placed high on the shelf you’ll remember me as you walk past
a single glance, a pause
a world’s explosion in memories
painted your favorite colors and teased by the sunlight from cracked blinds.
my ledger is torn on accident, tattered by wear
you’ll trace your fingers along my spine as if to get reacquainted
remember the ink you spilled on that one page
a quiver of excitement that i’ll be read anew again.
a promise not forgotten.
i’ll collect dust here in wait
becoming background in a pile, decorative
lessons and laughter and all the best bits of me quoted by you
like i haven’t already given you everything else.
ship sailed round trip through my fingertips
brittle bones beige on paper too pristine for me
too touched, too unsteady
trampled into common ground
i’ll be fine.
i know not from experience
but from watching it happen
lessons you left:
"to be wanted"
"to be had"
slowly writing again
i think i'll be obsessed with it until it happens:
buried underneath this smile are all the reasons.
if i am not crazy, what am i?
surely you don't think it normal to for someone-
possible for someone-
to live like this.
regardless of how strong
you think me to be, i guarantee you that you aren't accounting for
all the times i've taken damage
with no healer on my team or potions up my sleeve.
condescending interests, those who love me don't love what i do.
i just want them to tell me "good job" and mean it,
i need to know how i'm doing
that i'm doing
that they see me
that i'm good.
i keep giving myself up for life-
not me anymore, doing what i do to keep living,
these methods aren't true to me.
i smile past my fractures and they still frown at me.
i laugh and am extra and they don't know how much i break
just to give to them just to take.
i'm sorry to ask you for so much.
i'm sorry to need you so much.
i'm sorry to be-
obsessed, until it happens.
disgusted with myself,
because last night i jealously wondered
if he was happy now.
if i can be happy, too.
h a t e
that i feel
t h i s
w a y.
stop sending your son to do Atlas' job.
One ******* Demi-Goddess
i'm scared i'll never be better than these love poems
everyone else is getting better and i'm staying the same