You went to him because you’d never been
loved the way you deserved.
You’re neglected
time and time again. Childhood was stolen
somewhere between “It’s a girl!” and heaven.
I know you think you try.
You’re dejected.
In the shade of the damp one a.m. din
his tongue opens you like children do
Christmas gifts.

You went to him because you’d never had
so much attention from older guys.
So much attention, stained with the dyes
of lust. Is it that the ******* grains
staggered your mother’s ability to
care for you?
You hide beneath an eating disorder.
All the shame spills out
when you’ve got a finger deep in the esophagus’ veins.

You went to him because you’d never seen
a truly sweet smile.
Not that his gleans
away the pain inside you, but that
you’ve never really felt real sweetness.
Every time, when you seem to bat
your lashes,
I know you’re fighting back thick tears;
it’s not an exhibition of sexiness.

You went to him because you’d surely been
afraid of my honest feelings for you.
I’m sorry if the honest love I’d offered was scary,
but I’m not akin
to casual flings. That love was so true,
and ran so **** deep,
I’m sure I’d almost have drowned,
if your deceit hadn’t pushed that bright-blue
river so deep underground.