It’s hot here.
And I’m sitting in the chair where I sat when I screamed at you
,Best I could.
Best I could muster,
When it feels so wrong to hate you.
When it’s hard for me to even despise you
To be anything other than swindled.
But I’m not swindled.
I’m just sad.
I just miss you want to hold you, want to feel my empty parts taken up by you,
And filled, like a river, just like water
Like this swimming pool.
I wish that I was stronger
Strong enough to fight you.
But that’s the problem, that’s the rub
Soft rub, gentle rub, no one’s ever kissed my forehead
(the way that you do)
(do you see me?)
I don’t want to.