It’s nights like this,
when the loudest noise is the ticking of the timeless clock on my bedroom wall,
that I wonder if anybody has ever loved me.

They have loved the way I float across waters while they crash with storms,
bringing their bodies safely to shore
as though the waves aren’t slowly seeping in,
rising to the top until I’m sunk in the sand.

Making castles on the ocean floor,
maybe they only ever cared for the habits I developed
trying to survive in a world that never wanted me.
Because it’s easy to benefit from someone so eager to please.

Longing for the day that someone sees me
rather than what I can do for them.
Rather than how small I can become for them.

Every night is like this,
because the loudest noise is the ticking of the timeless clock on my bedroom wall,
and I wonder if anybody has ever loved me
for any reason beyond knowing that
a shrinking girl fits in the palm of your hand
just so long as she is wrapped around your finger.