i bite my tongue
i do not call you baby
i know better than to
make you feel small
but i can't help myself
i can't mop up
what spills over my teeth
and floods anyway
i love you and you're mine
i'm sorry that it
makes you feel small
but i can't help myself
i'm sorry that i wanted to
possess you
it's not that i think you're
something to be owned,
it's just,
i can't help myself
i wanted to be
a big strong something
and i can't help myself
i wanted you, too
you are small
i can't help but notice
how fragile you feel
in my violent hands
i bite my tongue
i do not point this out
i know better than to
make you feel small.
YOU ARE READING
Everything left to complain about (stopped) (go read my other poem book)
PoetryPoems and strings of words that don't qualify as poems, from all four years of high school until the summer after freshman year of college. My recent works and anything I continue to write can be found in my new poem book, "Open your hands and say s...
