Maybe we'll meet as atoms. Maybe we already have.

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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna

To Be Heard

My soul sits forgotten
on the coffee table,
and you set your tea on me
to protect the wood from water damage.
I feel every crushing tonne.

And, when I scream, you put your hand
over my mouth, and squeeze.
I’ve been bleeding ever since.

Oh, I have never been so hurt,
so angry, and so beaten.
I just wanted to be heard, and I’ve been screaming
since I was a kid,
but you said my screaming was just an ego ballooning,
suffocating you in your sleep,
so I learned to keep my mouth shut,
silently drowning in the flood
raging under my skin.
When they find my body, I’ll cough the sea up, and say:
You did this to me.

My pages are torn,
ancient hands in pieces
on my childhood bedroom floor.
I carefully tape them together,
but they’ll never be the same.
I’ll never be the same

because I’ve been repenting for so long
I don’t remember how to fill a space.
You say you like me better this way—
quiet and small and easier to swallow,
but no more. I love that fourteen year old girl,
radically,
in all her abrasive terror. You never did.
If you refuse to see my soul, I will.

my writing poetry