(there's something that steadily builds
in the bloodstream of a child with
a father who has the temper of a star
waiting to burst
and to become
mellow again
similar to death
but in silence)
when she touches me, my giving hands
grow cold
when she touches me, my shoulders turn
into themselves
when she touches me, my feet curl
with tension
when she touches me, my depleted body
turns away
her rancid, her caring, her belligerent, her sweet
her nothing
wishing for the strength to push her down
i hate her touching me
there's nothing more disingenuous or violent
than a hand, too hard, too open, too compensating
trying to touch you with warmth
that has been lacking for years
why touch me now if i know you hate me
(you don't hate me)
(but i hate you)
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 10:27 PM UTC
(there's something that steadily builds
in the bloodstream of a child with
a father who has the temper of a star
waiting to burst
and to become
mellow again
similar to death
but in silence)
when she touches me, my giving hands
grow cold
when she touches me, my shoulders turn
into themselves
when she touches me, my feet curl
with tension
when she touches me, my depleted body
turns away
her rancid, her caring, her belligerent, her sweet
her nothing
wishing for the strength to push her down
i hate her touching me
there's nothing more disingenuous or violent
than a hand, too hard, too open, too compensating
trying to touch you with warmth
that has been lacking for years
why touch me now if i know you hate me
(you don't hate me)
(but i hate you)