Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.

It only takes an instant to break
But a lifetime to completely heal
Pain will fade but never vanish fully
There will always be a trace of emotions we feel

I kept chasing
you, as if
you were
a distant dream.
But dreams
are not always
dreams.
Sometimes, we have
nightmares too.

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived

“Please tell someone, it doesn’t have to be me”
i know you’re trying to tell me not to bottle it up
but now it sounds like you can’t handle me.

too many people,
i’m a bit too feeble.
too much noise,
and not enough poise.

let me through,
I wanna go home.
back to my burrow,
my little dome.

don’t ask me if i’m fine,
because that’s my line.
“are you okay?”
“yeah, how was your day?”

open up to me, hon.
spill it all until you’re done.
if you don’t your chest will tighten.
your anxieties will heighten.

i went through the same,
i’m the only one to blame.
you don’t have to keep it in,
...you shouldn’t have to keep it in.

i love you,
i’m sorry.
let me know about anything,
i’m open ears, hon.