tearing at my skin
in my mind
to discover how you took what you took from me.
how deep is this buried?
how deep will the
excavation of my
lack of choice
lack of fight
lack of
what was supposed to be mine to give.
how far must i dig.
i feel you digging in still
i feel every spot you ever stole and claimed.
it’s not okay

i dont like when nathan sees me like this

i love the look of your
skin on mine-
but when the morning comes
and the curtain moves
i turn from pink pale
petal soft
to grey
as you stay golden

i talk a big game.
i joke and poke fun at the boy

but he really is the best thing i have going for me right now.
& i don't like that i have that much....
that he holds so much power over me.

life will go on if he
(when he)
leaves me.

but i like that i actually feel better after we fight,
and not worse,
because we fight clean,
& finally actually fix the problem.
it's never been like that before.

& i like how you want to make this work.
& i like how your eyebrows tell stories.

i want to keep you.
i want to stay with you.
i can give it up

My weapons:
my sarcasm, my teeth,
my sexuality, my coldness
my reality, my need for definition.
my nails, my hair.

i can lay them down and away for you.

do you see them for what they are?
do you understand?
naive, i adore you.
you don't see me the way i am sometimes.

or, then again, you do.
unable to see these weapons and parts
you see beyond them.

see me dancing in pink
laughing wide
see me small and sad
see me trying to keep my head up-
that's really all any of us are doing.

because im smaller with you.
im not the
ever expanding mess
that i have been.
im small and weak and young and normal.
it's fine tonight.
you hold tiny me close
and stroke my back.
i could scream right now and you'd be alright
you wouldn't run.
you wouldn't even hear the scream
just the thought behind it.
i look up and see you
see you wanting nothing more
than to keep me safe.

i thought you like a father once.

further speculation has lead me
and my scientific mind
(my hands dividing everything into base pieces,
claiming and sorting and arranging)
to believe that you take the stance more of
a
(heaven forbid)
protective
(loving
husband)

i’ve never had a man
who has not told me
how stuck he is in my hair.
like its a web
like they’re ropes.

they grab it and smooth it and touch it
it’s wild, my hair.
they try to control it.

but you, you read it-
like you read the rest of me-
you see me brush it back and know i love the book i’m reading.
you watch me tie it back, and know i’m feeling frustrated.

and you tell me that you love how i smile with my eyes.

i don’t like when you’re away.
i have no one here to know me
(because i hardly know myself)