you stand among us,
as though we were not shattered when
you took apart all that we made
to give you...

and i become that seething
sniveling,
mess on the floor...
when you tell me that you are leaving again,
as if i didnt just
create love to place in
your hands,

a kiss and a blooming rose, you
are all that i am,
and yet
still i feel lonely,

empty,
as you stand before me,
naked and in pieces,

but singing on a stage that i made just
for you.

i pull down my pants,
underpants,
and then i pull down my skin,

and it seems as though there has been blood stains
there
since forever,

so when i look down and greet each thigh,
i have begun to greet the floor
as well...

in thinking that they would laugh, when
i trim myself in the mirror,
i
make cutting motions and
pretend
to slice open my skin and everyone else
who says i am
not worth it
..

but my curves are warm when they hug me,
and i think
i see a girl hiding
between their folds, in the dark...
lost,
but in her own body.

so when people look at me, i've learned now
to cower,
to put away my teeth, my hair,
my words of indignation,
and
turn into that tiny girl, where
i'm always safe, always small...
always alone.

where i am crucified, but loved,
hungry, but not wanting,  
satiated...

but only for now.

so you say that we are from the people
who buried their dead
with flowers.

and you say that when
the world ends, we will simply learn to fall
apart.

i wonder,
if there will still be love when we convince
ourselves
that everything is still alright.

but how can we love the children that
we lie to…
and how can we trust those who
we forsake…

when you look me in the eyes next time,
or when you look at that spot, right beside
me,

i will remember our dead,
and i will remember
how you never truly meant to leave flowers.

learn to cradle yourself
in your own arms,

be strong, because
your mother loves you, and your
sisters love you,
                             more than i
can ever say.

and…
your body is not temple, because
you exist to survive.
so cherish yourself, and one day,
someone else will…

and it won’t be painful, the
way that things are painful
now.

so bear your teeth,
                                 but wear a crown,
you shouldn’t
bite yourself just to cry...

i beg for other people’s *** stories,
because i am broken and unloved...

and when boys snarl,
                             i feel alone, although
i know that they are just laughing...

and
i’ve found that womanhood is
half shame before everything else,

so i can only notice how
other girls wave their successes above my head,
as though being ****** is a prize and being loved is an end game,

that screams GAME OVER in bright red.

i will take my silence over your lifestyle any day,
despite the fact that i still cry when you leave.

i.

i told my mother the other day that i
have decided to be kind,
to love those
who love me (for no good reason)....

and because of, i want to take you in my arms
and hold you so tight
that the world cannot get in.
.

ii.

you are dressed in white, like
an angel, and
when you sleep, you murmur and
when
i watch, you smile
instead of howling, and i wish

that you were that peaceful when
awake.

iii.

you are growing up, and i
watch the way you forsake your mother
and i watch the way
you puff up your chest with lies and then
cower when you see me ....

you are not innocent anymore, and i cannot
hold you to as such when
you hide behind a hood of your parents
protection.

iv.

your brother does not love me anymore,
and frankly, i do not care.

but you cannot see the stab wound, so
still, i am angry.

v.

i don’t think she loves her best friend anymore,
i don’t think she even loves me.

but how can you tell someone to cut a
piece of themselves off when
you won’t do it for them?

when you don’t even have the right.

vi.

i read a poem today, it was about war
and it was about foxes,
and
i thought of you again...
my fox,

you are a violence...
and a lover.

and when i remember how you cut me,
i remember why i have to cherish what i have.

i didnt fall in love with this boy,
not this one
                     who tore me to pieces,

and i feel like an angel ,
suffocated in white, my wings were clipped
on the first day you
                                  wanted to kiss me,

and it feels violent,
disgusting,
my halo wasn’t built just to break —

and i did not forgive you,
i never will .

because you were never meant to go to heaven.