Beginning of an Apology

Here’s what I want to say:

I hate being naïve.

I hate being a child

At the bottom of a stairwell

And I know I’m a child,

At the bottom of a stairwell,

But I want to feel powerful too.

I read that as: synonymous:

Taste what it’s like to be cruel.

I had a wet dream

About wielding my organs

In a way that would let me hurt someone.

I read that as: antonymous:

You are virgin of “Virgin Conqueror,”

You are third of “first love,”

You are victim of “child abuse”

If it even was “child abuse,”

You are weak/you are low/you are wrong.

And I know that it’s shitty and you didn’t ask for

Co-opted pain to be my release

But I haven’t learned how to touch myself right

I haven’t learned how to love myself right

I thought that your words were so touching, alright?

And I made a mistake.

Unspeakably.

Eleven (11)

I am closing my eyes to see you.

I see you with closed eyes.

You seem,

In pain,

My hands are holding your face.

I am kissing your forehead.

Nothing else matters,

Although all of you matters.

But my love is leaving my lips.

The minute hand turns and I

Cross myself

Did you feel it?

That was my wish.