Graphic by Paris Robson
As much as I don’t know myself,
You Talk Shit
Condescension smears my chin
As I choke on all I’ve swallowed from you.
Our love is bound in roots and in years
But if I met you in a store?
(Disentangled and disillusioned)
You would disgust me.
That might sound harsh but
At this point,
I’m dying to speak the truth.
Tired doesn’t describe this bond.
Milestone battles that skirt the truth of our ins
Why do you have dominion over me?
Does me finding the courage to trust myself
Really push you away?
Does my refusal to spread myself over to you
Really hurt your ego?
I see a trigger
when you think, over my mind’s eye;
I know it’s easier for you
to pathologise me
than to see me.
You Hurt Me
And now is not the time to raise objections,
It’s time to say you were wrong.
But your desperation rubs off on me,
As I am increasingly desperate for space.
As I built my foundations on something
I can no longer stand for.
I ache with the clear view of what you’ve done to me
As I’ve done to you
And I wish
I had the strength to say this to your face.
I. Don’t. Want. This.