Those mild annoyances
Are the most sweet.
Like cat hair in your coffee cup
Cause he just wanted to take a peek.

i sleep in the same bed
that you hurt me in
every single night.
there are reminders of you
everywhere i look.
usually they fade into the background,
but not tonight.
leave me alone.

how can i convince you
i am SICK
when my most obvious symptom
is streamlined, sleek, SMALL

manipulating my body
has always been second nature.
i can be bigger
or smaller on command.
when you look at it this way,
disregard the parts which make me ill,
from a purely aesthetic angle...
anorexia is quite the skill.

grasp the mirror.
the reflection is not me,
it is something
distorted and ugly.

what do i look like?
if this is all i see
who is in the mirror?
that thing must be me.

i am the seed
you planted.
acting as if there’s distance
between you and the root,
but i know you are a gardener.
could you tend to me?
could you get rid of the pests
you placed in my ***?
don’t get rid of me too!
am i just a **** to you?

i will kiss you then make my way
to another boy’s house.
i will greet four pairs of lips in two days.
every single one of them will feel the same,
though each attached to a different name.
and when i go home
i will feel empty with only myself to blame.

My fingers and lips and mind  
seemingly have dried out,
and thus shut up,
when it comes to you.

I used to seek you out,
then panic when I found you.

Now I don’t bat an eye,
or misstep, and no memories
or flashbacks replay
even when I see you unexpectedly.

In the midst of some sort of
conventionally accepted Stockholm Syndrome
and compulsory forgiveness,
I am angry.
Why should I
have to be bigger and better
towards the ones who
never gave me
the basic humanity which
I inherently deserve?

what a flammable heart
i have.
your fingers matches,
striking against
my matchbox skin.

you have taken the price tag off.
you showed me to your mom
and let me meet your sister.
i met your 14-year-old terrier-
she wasn’t as pleased as the rest.
you brought me round your friends.
you kissed me- soft and hard.
you threw away the price tag,
and the box, and the receipt, and the warranty.
you showed me you will keep me for good,
not just till im worn out
or something better comes along.
time is so valuable
and ours is rich.

the first time i was assaulted
my mom said to me
“that’s what boys do when
they like you.”

i often think about this when
i wonder why she stayed
for 22 years
no matter how hard he hit her.

when you view life
more like a compass
and less like a clock

how do
i want to be perceived?
what do you think when
you see me?

If see her in my face
is it really mine?
Generational trauma
coming from her line.

with every utterance of
“do you still love me?“
i scratch at the scar of
The Mother Wound

you have semisoft lips
a solid tongue
one of your bottom teeth angled
at maybe 60 degrees
you breathe through yours
while i use mine
when we kiss
you overpower me

although the days still challenge me
they flow with significantly more ease.
no longer do you pollute my mind
i use more hours as productive time.
with bruises you left, i learned to cope
looking forward to life with love and hope.

you stole my choice twice.
first when you pried it
from my shaking hands.
second when you polluted my brain
to believe every man is like you.

i couldn’t love him even if i wanted to.
all thanks to you.

BEFORE
a belt was a belt,
a peanut butter milkshake only that,
a golden car was
nothing more than meets the eye.

AFTER
you became a leather belt,
a peanut butter milkshake,
every golden car,
a **** flashback that i want to spit out.

my parents never loved each other and they never really even loved me. i never saw people happy or in love. so imagine my surprise when you waited. you made me feel special, normal, not like i owed you things. you knew i went through it all by the age of sixteen. you knew how bad the scars itched sometimes. you stayed up with me on the phone reassuring me, you held me on your chest when you could. you did more than you needed to. you never asked for anything in return. don’t get me wrong, we both know things have not always been easy. we both have our helping of insecurity and affliction, among other things. still, every other person i thought i loved filled me up with dread and quite often. their tears were overwhelming, their anxieties were too much, and they didn’t know how to console me, anyone, even themselves. they didn’t believe in growth. your tears on my cheek feel like summer raindrops. i held you till you stopped crying. you told me you can’t bear to hear people speak nice things about you- so i wrote it on a note and put it in your bag. i hope you found it. i am glad you found me. i am glad you waited. i am glad you’ve shown me what love is really like. even if i don’t believe you sometimes, i know you love me.

he tells me he is afraid
to touch me
i cant help but think
all he sees is a crime scene
or someone else’s victim
when he looks at my skin

you ask me if i love you.
so i say
“i feel like i do.”
but sometimes my feelings lie to me
and i don’t want to do that to you.

there are times
i want to take a picture of you
doing nothing in particular,
beautifully.
in a second, the moment is gone
and i don’t remember
what you were doing,
but i remember what it felt like
to see you do it.

although tomorrow is
not promised,
we must live as if
we will see it.
otherwise when it comes
we are stranded-
halfway house,
numbered days.

static sparks fall from
the friction of clothing, blankets.
his mouth is sweet,
his belly soft and pale.
he is warm.

everytime i gaze at
him it feels like
the first time
lips softly parted
his kiss always
feels new

not prepared to die, nor to live
lay dormant in the earth
waiting for the storm to pass
the sun to re-emerge
a shedding, blooming tree branch
resilient, persistent, weathering
in a sad-beautiful way

it is a challenge to remember
there are good people among us.
but it is so much easier remembering
with a reminder right beside you
taking the form of a beautiful soul.

i was so afraid
of what i had concocted,
i did not see what was there.
rose colored glasses,
but backwards.

his eyes are half shut
and the room is dark.
hands gently resting upon
the curve of a waist, a belly.
this is what a home looks like.
those beautiful brown eyes.

quickly losing interest
in being alive
stardust fizzling out
melted butter

he is not the same
as the ones that hurt you.
so why convince yourself
to run from something beautiful
when it has only just begun?

we spent a lot of time on us
only to find it was wasted
like buying binge food
and purging it into the toilet.

you act like you care
now that i push you away.
i ask for space
and you gravitate towards me.

i feel hollow
like my empty stomach
but i like it
maybe you will like it too.

i’m at this threshold,
dealing with so many unnecessary obstacles.

i’m letting all of them hold me back
because it is easier to be a victim
than a victor.

too temperamental.
it is either
                             zero
or one hundred.

not in a good way.  

each word she speaks
brings up that boiling bubble of stress
in my chest cavity.

how can i take
my own insecurities
and feelings of inferiority
out on her

while maintaining
my egotistical
self image?

become slow to anger.
for the good of yourself
and every soul around you.

i can’t help but stare at the ceiling
what else is there to do at midnight
when everyone else is preoccupied
and i am wandering aimlessly through life

fast hearts alone in your parents’ house
going between aggressive and tender
half moon fingernail marks in the skin
with teeth-borne bruises underneath

we are so tender,
the fruit who offers resistance to enemy teeth
minds and imagination ripe
just a stage in the grand scheme
still valuable, regardless of what others believe

somehow it is mid july
and i still shiver,
my body so cold.

a blush on my cheekbones
warms me up from inside out,
too fleeting for comfort.

much too late for an abortion
and asking for necessity
is far too selfish of me.
i do not want to be
an obligation to you.
you always told me
you wanted a daughter,
but you never show it.
you always say
“i’m so sorry
i will change”
and i never want to believe you
but i always do
and i never have a reason to.
my blood is nothing to me
because i am nothing to them
but a problem.

i adore my softness
my round peach fuzz tummy
poking out, shielding the bones
that once ruled over my mind

it is not normal for me
to lust for your soul
crave chaste intimacy
so what an uncomfortable surprise
to feel these things after the drought

hello, sweet girl
sweet blonde hair and blue eyes
with the ever-so-perfectly groomed brows
nobody could ever do them quite like you

will you sing to me from heaven?
play your ukelele for us all
and we will hear it
in the form of a soft july storm

you always made me laugh
you made everyone laugh
we should’ve made you laugh more
we should’ve talked more, too late

i will not ever forget
your softly closed eyes and folded arms
we waited on you to jump up
“surprise” you’d say but you didn’t

i cannot forget your family’s tears
as they had to bury their little girl
i can’t resent you for escaping your pain
but i can miss you all i want, right

she says that no bad things will happen
though she takes no precautions
but undesirable outcomes manifest often
and they will continue to
unless she finds some sun block
the more and more you burn
the deeper the cancer goes
till it’s terminal

is it possible to erase feelings of inadequacy
by overcompensating productivity
will it silence my self doubt
until exhaustion takes over

i like to imagine
you smell like the moon
familiar, comfortable,
yet so unknown

how could anyone think
brown eyes are boring
when all the constellations
reflect and twinkle in yours

i overthink
everything i do
can i not just bloom
thoughtlessly
wherever i will
some type of wildflower