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
and so here you stand again,
extending your half-empty
glass and expecting me to fill you up
with the half that i have left of me.
void of complaints,
pressed into the wrong space
(though the right piece)
you knew me once to be the girl that would carry you
on her shoulders in earnest,
a believer in geocentricity
while you investigated other cores.
i guess i'm still a little **** & misshapen.
i guess i signed up to always be partially theirs, somewhere-
a beacon to those behind me,
advantageous and drawn to the vulnerability i bleed,
the healing i do.
"can we start again?
i just appreciate the energy that you
return to sender: i'm not interested.
my body is a road map
littered with the fingerprints of men who
find somewhere/(one) else to make home
do you feel alone on nights like tonight, too?
missing makes the heart grow bitter