if you pick me up
from my house
and find me standing in the driveway
fidgeting with my hands and tapping
my foot
it is not your fault
it is the feeling that i do not
deserve to be treated kindly
carved into my bones
and i am trying to scratch it out
because seeing your smile
makes tears sting my eyes
but the second i slide into
the seat next to you
and you put your hand on my knee
i already feel safer
if i spend more time
looking at the menu than at you
it is not your fault
i am not counting the calories
because they are not listed
and it is usually only hospitals that do that
but i am afraid to look you in the eyes
because all i will see is love
and a sparkle that i am afraid
i will snuff out
if i only eat a little bit of my food
and ask the waiter to bring a to-go
box to the table along with our plates
it is not your fault
it is the flashbacks of my family
making fun of the way that i ate
one thing at a time
because even as a boy
i was already being wrapped tighter
and tighter in the grasp
of trauma-induced OCD
if i jerk away when your foot
touches mine under the table
it is not your fault
nor is it really mine
and isn't that strange
that my mother only doling out
cruel touches can still cling to me
even as a young man
if i only take one bite of the dessert
that you ordered just for me
it is not your fault
and i am sorry if i hurt your feelings
but even though the anorexia is
now just a faint whisper in the back of
my mind
it is still there
and at just a whiff of the sweet
i am barraged by the cruelty
in her eyes
when she told me how fat i was
and then praised and loved me
when i was nothing more than
skin and bones
if i go rigid when you hug me
and then bury my head in your shoulder
it is not your fault
i am not good at receiving affection
or kind words
because i grew up with a severe lack of both
and i had none of either left to give myself
because i did not know how to
but i want you to know
that standing there
in the circle of your arms
breathing in your distinct smell
i feel safe
and loved
like i've come home
YOU ARE READING
These Four Walls
PoesíaMore poetry. Happier, this time. It's kind of forced. But, hey. I'm teaching myself new tricks. And, I wanted to say thank you to the people that have helped me along the way. Hopefully, you will continue to hold my hand when the going gets rough. S...
