When I’m sad, I cry. I always have cried when something was hurting my heart. It was one of those things about me that used to aggravate my mother. She used to tell me, “You need to learn to leave your feelings underneath your bed.” I never learned to leave my feelings underneath my bed.
This isn’t an explanation for today’s poem; it’s just a fact about me. Something I thought about as I was re-reading this poem I wrote at three a.m.:
“Your tears bore me,” you say.
And your words slice me open,
find places not before touched.
And when you’re done cutting me
with your unkind words & careless deeds,
I slice what’s left of me
until I’m swimming in a pool of my own blood.
And no longer able to see:
my own worth.
You’ve conditioned me
to want to feel nothing but pain
& now I’m the one harming me.
But you’ll never know it
because I wear sweaters to shield me
from the cold of this world &
to keep you from really knowing me.
Peace & Love,