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lizie May 19
it’s selfish,
but i love
that every word i give you
turns into poetry.
lizie May 19
i don’t blame you
for not reading the things i write.
you’ve made a boundary,
clear, kind,
and i’ll tried my best to honor it.

but still,
sometimes i wish
you could see how often
your name falls between the lines
when i don’t mean for it to.

not out of obsession,
not because i’m holding on,
but because love like that
doesn’t vanish,
it lingers in the ink.

and if you ever do read them,
if the words ever find their way to you,
i hope they don’t feel like a betrayal.
i hope they just feel like
truth.
lizie May 19
i read your poem.
even though it made my heart hurt,
it’s nice to know you
don’t hate me.
i don’t think.

it’s funny,
10 things i hate about you
is one of my favorite movies.
so many people say
that i look like the lead.

i wonder if you read my poems.
if you analyze them
they way that i analyze yours.
i wonder if you try to keep up
or if it hurts too bad.
believe me,
it hurts.

it’s almost two weeks
on my medicine,
and i feel no different.
i guess that’s expected
but i’m just tired
of nothing changing.

i have therapy tomorrow.
i’m already dreading it.
she kept saying
“promote awareness”
as if i didn’t know
she was reading off a script.
lizie May 19
my sadness grows like ivy,
quiet, tenacious,
weaving itself through the seams of my ribs
until i mistake the ache
for architecture.

i wake in a room with no corners,
only echoes.
the air is damp with memory,
and something hums beneath the floorboards—
a sound like
what if.

rain leaks in through the ceiling
but never wets the ground.
i open the windows
to let in a sky that won’t look me in the eye.
it’s always dusk here,
somewhere between forgetting and too-late.

the mirror won’t speak anymore.
i ask it: am i still a girl
or just the shell she wore
before the flood?

in the dream,
i am made of wax
and someone keeps lighting matches.
lizie May 19
dad had tears in his eyes
when mom told him i had cut again
he doesn’t cry
not really
not unless something’s falling apart
and this time
it was me

he said why
again and again
like the question could fix it
like i could fix it
but i just stared
felt the words press against my throat
and stay there
tight
screaming
quiet

so i said
i can’t just stop being sad
and that’s all
because it’s the only truth i had

mom gave him a look
like don’t push her
she’s already broken
already bleeding
already tired of explaining
what can’t be
explained

and then
she hugged me
really hugged me
like she didn’t care
that she hates hugs
held me
like she wanted
to keep me here
keep me whole
even if she couldn’t

and she said
we know
like it meant something
like knowing was enough

and maybe
for a moment
i
believed
it
  May 17 lizie
Zazu
And suddenly
I remembered why
We stopped talking
lizie May 17
why do some people feel so sad?
why am i one of those people?
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