you played me like a cello,
at first i thought the sweet symphonies were beautiful,
a melody just for us,
but then the bow cut deep into my spine,
and bled me dry
and you continued to play.
i still think of your music to this day.
my scars still are on display.
how come it still sounds beautiful to my ears?

Told my feelings were fake
Laughed at for crying
Brutalized for refusing
Depicted as anomalous
This is my "home"

I exploded, caught a breath as I felt the silencing

Crossed volatile environments
Misunderstood ephemeral friends
Bullied, ostracized
Experienced injustice
This is school

I performed, in the illusion of shutting silencing

Living my curiosity
Knowledge is my strength
Reflexivity makes me grow
Embracing my difference
This is my refuge

I introspected, in the freedom of their paralyzed silencing

Meet mind-like people
Discovered my emotions
Explored my preferences
Dug my family history
This is my travel

I free-fell, as in my trust I hit structural silencing

Communicating humbly
Nourishing healthy relationships
Trusting my positions
Affirming my autonomy
This is my womanhood

Becoming a mother, I urge to gather the pieces for her freedom

I know you hate it when I sleep
Because your anger is rarely more intense
Than when I shut my eyes
Comfortable on the couch
Wedged between the cushion and the back
Eyes heavy
Drooping
Trying desperately to stay awake for you.

I don't ever want to hear "I don't care"
Come from your mouth again.

You know what?
It may not feel real to you, but
It does to me.  
Lies so often that it’s uprooted my own
Sense of sensibility.  

Gentle, loving touch
I feel it deep shivers down my back
The services you render
I haven’t seen
Since I ran Allroy off the track.

Peck rapidly with your thumbs
Although you can barely read.
But here I stay, I care
I can’t explain the need.

I never understood mathematics;
however I can add your negligence,
multiply my displeasures
to summarize your subtracting feelings, and calculate your ******* behavior.
Let's divide.

the worst part of hating you
is how i know that i don't
not really, not truly.
only in moments,
a kind of hatred matched
only by senseless love

hatred inspired by anger
and pain, and
“******* for making me feel like this,
for making me feel this way,
making me feel so deeply—
for making me feel at all.
for making me feel. period.
*******”

i don't like feelings,
and, sometimes, i don't like you
though i will always love you
and that's the truth
so ******* it, *******

you hollowed me out
like a bongo drum
then hit me 'til your hands
were the only things i recognised
and filled me with the sound of you
and gave me a heartbeat
painful and stuttering

i lost my rhythm,
getting lost in you.
so i hate you, i swear i do
but i just can't hate you
as much as i love you
and that's the grinding truth