She saw me.
Even though I hid in the shadows.
She saw me cry,
She dried my eyes,
And she knew what to say to comfort me.
She heard me.
Even when the tears I cried were quiet.
She heard my chest heave,
She heard my the water from my eyes drip,
Like tiny faucets
In the dead of night ,
And she knew how to calm me down.
So what if my core ached when she spoke?
So what if she used me,
I used her just as much.
Aren't I just as guilty?
I may have been fourteen years old,
But I wasn't new to the world.
I was too busy trying to be loved
She gave me what I wanted.
She gave me the attention I craved.
She gave me the love I needed.
I had friends,
But they didn't make me feel special.
They wanted to,
But they didn't know how.
When she said "I love you"
Maybe she spelled it differently?
When my friends said it;
I said "I love you too".
They didn't give me butterflies;
They didn't make me feel special.
When she said it;
I almost felt like I would explode.
When she said "you're so beautiful"
Maybe she spelled it differently?
When my friends said it;
I said "aw, you're beautiful too".
They didn't give me butterflies;
They didn't make me feel special.
When she said it;
I almost felt like it was true.
Maybe she spelled it wrong.?
Maybe she spelled it right.?
I knew this was wrong,
But I so wanted to be right.
I needed it to be right.
I said we were just friends;
Maybe it was me who wanted more.?
I never told her any time that she made me cry,
Yet somehow she knew.
I never told her,
when she scared me-
When she threatened me.
I never told her how much that made me cry,
But she always knew.
She knew how to pull me apart,
And how to put me back together.
Like a doll in her dollhouse,
The expert ventriloquist
and her puppet.
I was nothing more than something she owned.
I always forgave her,
I never blamed her,
And she knew that I wouldn't.
She knew she could get away with it
Because she knew I wouldn't say anything ,
She knew,
And that makes me ask the question:
"How many people has she done this to?"l
YOU ARE READING
Poems at 3am
PoetrySo, I write a lot of poems some (a lot of them) of them may be triggering due to the fact a lot of them talk about my trauma, mental illness,and bad experiences, I'll include trigger warnings dw! Others of them are either reflections, nonbinary rant...
