you've always assumed you knew
everything there is to know
about me.
you assume adulthood means i
...
i was none but a burning ship
and i reached for you
as if you —
as if you were my saviour;
...
i painted this room with my own hands. washed every trace of you off my walls and coloured them anew. i shoved your remnants into the small box of nightmares hidden under my bed.
the thing about nightmares is that they like to escape the box, they like to come out and play. and you? you have become my favourite nightmare i relive every night, relishing in the high of not knowing if i will survive to see the dawn break.
...
Daughter Dearest
you've always assumed you knew
everything there is to know
about me.
you assume adulthood means i
no longer have emotions worth
listening to.
i've always had my needs met but
my thoughts never heard.
i've always tried to keep my
emotions hidden away but
i can't.
my hurt, my anger, my dismay —
have always been too much for me,
have always been too much for you.
you've always jumped to conclusions first
and never apologised,
swept everything under the rug
and pretended you set things right.
apologies now scare me, they send my
heart racing and chest constricting —
apologies aren't familiar to me.
emotions scare me too, for someone so full of them.
now i hide my bad days behind a mask in public —
no one likes a girl full of anger and insecurities.
and when my mask slips off in places i've
thought were safe, i always come out on
the other side a little more disappointed,
a little more broken.
(one day i will perfect the art
of smiling through my pain —
perhaps today is just not the day.)
i pen this down with a
churning stomach and
eyes keeping tears at bay.
i pen this down not daring
to talk about the demons haunting me because
you will never, ever listen.
— all i have ever wanted was for you to just listen to me.