I love you
I hate you
I love hate you
Only black for you
Or maybe red
Which is what I wish we could be
But you won't let me
Because you're not
Black or red for me
Or anybody
You enticing asshole
I love me
I love me?
No
That's not quite right either
I hate myself
But acknowledge that I'm great
Just not as great as I want to be
No, NEED to be
I am chill but can be very picky
Picky picky with how I present myself
You don't hate me
But you care enough for me
To tear me down with words
That I have repeated to myself
Over and over and over again
And because I already planted
that seed of negativity
Inside my mind
I welcome your harsh words
Meant to encourage
Your touch is either patronizing
Or painful
I prefer the latter
Because I have become so sad
That I have felt hollow and numb
So the pain you bring gives me relief
That I can in fact feel.
Our friendship is toxic
Lin Manuel Miranda's Hamilton said,
"I imagine Death so much,
that it feels more like a memory"
Well Death's my best friend
And he's sitting next to me.
That's what he is.
My Savior or My Executioner
Or at least that's what he could be
He totters in between the two
He's not good for me I know it
But I feel like I need him
Even though I don't
Somehow he's wrapped these chains around my mind that makes my every waking thought about him and how I can coax a reaction from him.
I get a high from our painful playful
Skirmishes. Not so much painful for him
But for me.
I'm addicted to him. His touch, his voice, his scent, his name. Everything.
He makes me worse. But I somehow have the strength to not fall completely into the abyss.
He can only control me through force. I am NOT his bitch.
Others would have been fooled by the way he handles me. But he's a true gentleman occasionally. This toxic friendship that I wish would turn red or black or any color but pale.
I want so badly for us to take the next step.
A step that we will never take.
Because I love him
But he doesn't love me
Because I hate him
But he doesn't hate me the same
Because I want us to be either black or red, but he'd rather paint me black and blue.
But I'm ok, I'd say, "Because it's you."
YOU ARE READING
A Mental Trip
PoetryThe poems of a depressed nonbinary POC throughout high school, into college, and through first loves and toxic relationships. Hopefully, this shows people that they are not alone in their pain and that there can be something better on the other si...
