I can still remember
the way it felt
to know the person
meant to protect you
chose not to.
I am afraid
I may never love you
the same way I used to
before I was old enough
to know what
lying really meant.
I still think of home
as a space
I was too scared
to breathe in.
sometimes
I think about
stepping out in front
of a car
and the only thing
that stops me
Is the questions
I know you would ask.
My closet
was the safest place
I felt I had left
to hide in.
It bothers me
you can’t hear
the venom
in my voice
I can’t hold back
from spitting up my throat.
I still wish
you taught me
how to love myself
Instead of
how to fear everyone else.
I still have nightmares
I am convinced I haven’t
woken up from yet.
I am a funeral
you still celebrate
every time I come home.
Some days
I hate you
for the way
you made me
love what hurt me.
There is a part of me
that still believes
I am unlovable.
Aug 20, 2020
Aug 20, 2020 at 7:51 PM UTC
I can still remember
the way it felt
to know the person
meant to protect you
chose not to.
I am afraid
I may never love you
the same way I used to
before I was old enough
to know what
lying really meant.
I still think of home
as a space
I was too scared
to breathe in.
sometimes
I think about
stepping out in front
of a car
and the only thing
that stops me
Is the questions
I know you would ask.
My closet
was the safest place
I felt I had left
to hide in.
It bothers me
you can’t hear
the venom
in my voice
I can’t hold back
from spitting up my throat.
I still wish
you taught me
how to love myself
Instead of
how to fear everyone else.
I still have nightmares
I am convinced I haven’t
woken up from yet.
I am a funeral
you still celebrate
every time I come home.
Some days
I hate you
for the way
you made me
love what hurt me.
There is a part of me
that still believes
I am unlovable.
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