I do not know if I love you
in the same ways
I have grown, up and apart
from you.
Your habits I once found endearing
now make me claw at my skin.

You hate my painted fingers
and the length of my nails.
You poke fun at all the parts
I hate most about myself
and in case that didn't hurt quite enough,
you don't know how to listen
when the demons in my head
appear in the dark.
I fight them off alone
with silent prayers and sleeping pills
but nothing will ever be **enough.