For a while I didn't like anything
and you knew
But you also knew I always liked you

When my fingers ached under the pressure and I pressed red lines into my skin you did not call for help

you went to the store every day for a month when I would only eat kiwi
and you held my hair out of the toilet when I had too much to drink

I can still remember crying
saying you deserved more
I never learned how to give

I only know how to take

and you put my face between your hands and said god bless my soul for being mighty and deep and you said you couldn't wait to spend a lifetime drowning in it

don't blame your mother because she doesn't know what you're in

don't blame your mother because she's frustrated that you haven't said more than a few words and it's her weekend off

don't blame your mother for slamming your door when she enters for the seventh time today and you're still in bed

it's not her fault for the things that you feel and it's not her fault for not being able to understand
but it isn't your fault either

you've been broken ten ways to Sunday and it is a miracle you still have your limbs

you don't have to worry that your extremities are numb and chilled because your heart is doing the best it can

your vocal chords need a rest sometimes and it's not your mother's fault for not understanding

but it's not yours either

He opened his mouth to speak, but she shushed him,
said she wanted to love him, said she didn't want to lose him.
It was a sound he heard too many times a day.

"shh don't talk about death.
I know you miss your mom, but talking about it makes me sad"
"shh I didn't sleep much last night, please let me rest"
"shh don't say a word; I already know"

He was boxed in tighter and told to be quieter
until there was a six inch gap between his organs and his ribs.

She wanted him to be a glazed bowl in their upstairs kitchen.
She didn't need his hair pulling at the stars.

He wanted to be reshaped,
but once clay's thrown in the kiln it doesn't know how to knead itself.