I told myself I wanted all of her
But I never wanted her blame shifting
Her gaslighting
Her traumatic bonding
Her disorientation
Her playing the victim
Her cruelty
To happen
And it would be easier to cope with
If it actually hadn't.

It would've been easier
If I'd been the crazy one
Because then I might've had the power to fix it
If again I could go back to the time
When I clung to her lap
And she ran her fingers through my hair
And said, "Your head's really ****** up, isn't it?"

If I could go back to my "data acquisition"
And be okay when she refused to give me answers
When she refused to tell me what we were
Or if I meant a thing to her
So I couldn't hold her to expectations
Or have them
Because I meant nothing to her
But she couldn't tell me that until I tried to end it
She just let me say "I love you," and didn't say it back
(Except for the few times she slipped just to keep me trapped).

She told me that it was all in my head
And then that I wasn't imagining anything
In the same paragraph.
She told me she was "over this"
But wouldn't tell me what "this" was
When I was the one crushed under it.
She let me chase that conversation
And played with me
And told me, "You're just going to have to be confused then.
This is my straight forward response.
The truth is, I'm sorry but you will have to deal with it."
But I didn't want to deal with it.
I just had to.
And all I wanted was the truth
But I still don't have it
And I don't know how it can stare her in the face
And she can still deny it

I don't get how she can torture me for months
And not have the decency to say, "Yeah, I did it,"
So I can rest.
I don't get why I still need her validation
Why I still tried so desperately to get it
Why the army behind me isn't enough

But it has to have something to do with her saying,
"I am not your ex. I am nothing like your ex.
You need to be able to collect the data in front of you and dissociate from past trauma.
Seriously,"
Every time I tried to defend myself from her actions
Until I stopped trying because I was too busy trying to analyze my own
Or, "You tell me all your thoughts,
I go through them with you
Confirming. Or. Denying."
Like she was the omniscient authority
The objective standard by which the validity of my feelings and perceptions were measured.

I think it's because
It'd be easier to cope with
If it hadn't actually happened,
So I convinced myself it wasn't happening
And I'm still struggling to believe it.
It'd be easier
If it was all in my head
Because then I'd have something to be certain of
(Even if it was only my uncertainty)

And I wouldn't have to admit to myself
That I was in love with a sociopath.
I wouldn't have to wonder
Whether or not she did it on purpose.
I wouldn't have to face the fact that I feel abused and broken
And empty
And like there's a hole in me I'm not sure how to fix
That I allowed to be drilled there.

To be raised in dysfunction is to expect failure.  
It is to expect every mans words to be rough and spiteful spilling from their lips like venom.  
To be raised in a fantasy is to fear ones own reality.
It is to become acquainted to forms of love being shown as slammed doors and drunken slurs.  
Gas lighting women to wonder if one day they will breathe or step the wrong direction
It is to expect everyone who claims that they "love you" to belittle you  to strip you of your identity and your sanity like ***** clothes tainted by the fumes of their words.  
And in the gaslighting, which burned very bright, you would have enough of a glow to paint the roses red.
Perfectly red, everyday they would have to be red.
Because to be raised by you
Means blood, and we are blood.
But that does not mean, I have to bleed, for you.

.                                 i am missing
                                  you so much it hurts,


                                 i am ill-
                                 treated and need strength,


                                 i am afraid,
                                 unsure of what to do.


                                you're imagining things,
                                 you said.

you make me hate me
reject me, dejected me,
a piece of you that is
sadly me, i am me and
you hate me

You think you never
Cut the ******
Umbilical cord,
That i’m one hundred
And fifty pounds of
Walking baggage
That belongs to you.

I’m just your grown-up,
Beat up barbie doll,
With the limbs loose
And skin scarred:
A breathing toy.

You invalidate me
So you can have a
Perpetual platform,
A pedestal tarnished
By the scuffs of your
Dagger heels.

I'm trying my best, but it's easy to lose focus when all you can see on the horizon is your world falling apart

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
hatchlings aren't able to fly,
though they think they are.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
in order to live
and to love,
part of me had to die.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
i would never be
as beautiful or as perfect
as the dove.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
i was worthless,
and if i wanted something,
i had to work for it.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
you were protecting me
from the outside world.
i didn't realize i was suffering.


my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
you taught me that
i couldn't trust anyone,
there were predators all around,
and when it rained, it poured.

my body is a nest
for robin's eggs.
i told myself that
it was time to fly.
oh, it hurt, but still,
your words were never as soft as the ground.