a collection of completely legitimate poems

Sick

my pain is one that waits.

One that waits until i'm alone

To uncurl and wrap her hands around me

To clasp her clammy palms to me,

To whisper doubts, little doubts, little doubts, little doubts,

And stoke my shoulder while i cry, sick, sick, sick

She whispers sick comforts,

"Sick, sick sick,"

She stays clinging to my hip while i walk

While i laugh and smile and talk,

Watches while i love and enjoy

Whispers of my loves, little doubts, little doubts,

My pain loves me, loves to have me all to herself.

Loves to caress me, ease me into bed,

Crawl, sweaty and naked, into my head.

"You're sick. You're sick. You're sick. You're sick. You're sick. You're sick. You're sick. You're sick.

And she kisses me and tells me why. I shake and nod and try to coerce her.

I try not to believe her and I tell my parents, when they meet, that she only holds my hand.

I feel her then, digging her nails into my knuckles.

I tried calling the number in the bathroom, but they put me on hold.

I cried and I gasped and she didn't text me for days.

But at night she begs me to come over

and I do, I do, I do, I do, I do.

I swear I've forgotten, but I've started to speak into the mirror.

You're sick.