i don't remember much about you
i grew to forget how your face looks
or what i was attractive to  
i don't remember much about anything about sixth grade
i try to not remember anything about sixth grade

but i remember
december being colder because of you
crying on christmas because of you
my mom driving me to my first therapy season because of you
the heartbreak i caused because of you
the friends i lost because of you  
the people i have hurt because of you
the hurt endured because of you
how everything hurts because of you

you don’t know the hurt
you never and will never know the hurt
you don’t even remember me
that is so unfair
you get to hurt and break and wreak me but
you get to forget me
forget how you touched me for the first time
forget how subtle you made it seem
forget how many times
forget how you took advantage of me

i wish i could forget that i loved you
i loved you
i once loved you
but how could that be  
                                                          how could you love the person
                                                          who took advantage of you?
                                                          how could you be so naive?
                                                          how could you be so stupid?

but i was twelve
how couldn’t i have been that stupid and nieve when i was twelve
i wasn’t even educated on what they were doing until i was a month shy of thirteen
therefore a twelve-year-old couldn’t have gone through that
therefore it is not real
therefore i lied

and so you continue
yet, i
i said stop
i said stop to you
i said i love you
but you should have of stopped.
you never stopped.
please stop.

then when you finally left
you did not take every piece of her
you left her hands
cold
freezing
winter
decemeber
hands
on my body
in my mind
and
i was left with the mess you made
the mess of everything you never and will never know about
and everything i am stuck remembering
the night my parents found me
you will never know why i was absent
you will never know the pain you've caused
the mess you have made
but i cleaned it up
by myself
because the people who could have stopped it
decided it was not real
it was not real
it
was
not
real
i wish you were not real

i am angry about what you did
and how you don’t even remember sixth grade
and how i am stuck with the aftermath
days, months, years, after
i don’t remember who i once fell in love with
or what i was attractive to
but i remember your touch
and the anger
the sadness,
the long-winded depression,
the loneliness,
the feeling of being useless
and unworthy
and the attempts,
and the pills,
and the scars,
and everything
but mostly, i wish i could remember you like the way you don’t remember the hurt, the break, and the wreckage you caused me.


                                                - to you, in hopes you one day understand the pain i felt and the ghost that will never leave because of the sadness you have caused me