can it be night again,
where your hand is stumbling through the dark trying to take a grasp of mine,
and even though the dark blinds you,
your fingers lace through mine,
and i feel safe.

you made me think not being called beautiful by someone who’s supposed to think i am was normal it wasn’t normal

i’ve barely slept,
i’m running on adderal and self loathing,
a mix that has kept me alive for far too long.
i’ve barely slept,
i want you to kiss me until our lips are bruised and touch me hard enough that traces of your fingertips can still be seen on my skin.
i’ve barely slept,
i miss the feeling of someone’s mouth on my neck,
the feeling of gentle kisses starting at my collarbone and falling lower and lower and lower.
i’ve barely slept,
i’m running on adderal and self loathing,
when what i really need is to find my relief in you.

i just want you to feel the same way that poetry makes me feel.
whole, alive, confident.
poetry makes me scream the truth,
and i want you to want to be honest,
scream truthful words from the tops of the highest buildings,
or whisper your deepest secrets into my ear.
i just want you to feel the same way that poetry makes me feel.
wanted.

now i know why you drank so much during your lifetime.
i know why you were so angry when you were drunk,
the truth always comes out when a person isn’t sober.
i know why i had to grow up being terrified,
why i had to hide when the alcohol was coursing through your veins,  
and why i lost so much sleep wondering if you’d even come home from bar.
you’re such an amazing person,
and sometimes i wish you never met her so you could have lived your life to your full potential.
i know you love me to death,
that i am your daughter and you regret how scared you made me,
but i wish you never met her.
i wish you didn’t marry her and have children with her.
i wish i wasn’t born,
because if i wasn’t,
you’d be where you want in life.
not laying in bed at 5am being screamed at and scared to lose everything you’ve earned in life.
i know why you drank,
because why wouldn’t you when dealing with someone else’s addiction?

please do not touch me like you touched her.
i am not her, but i think you knew that already.
you just refuse to admit it,
instead tracing your fingers down my back as if the curves of my body were the same as hers.
your hand will not fit in mine like how hers fit yours.
please do not touch me like you touched her.
i am someone else.
you can’t pretend to hide your longing for her by trying to find relief in me.

i just want you to feel the same way that poetry makes me feel.
whole, alive, confident.
poetry makes me scream the truth,
and i want you to want to be honest,
scream truthful words from the tops of the highest buildings.
i just want you to feel the same way that poetry makes me feel.
wanted.