Late Night Poetry

29.

hit/me

I'm not someone
who turns to the blade
to deal with the pain
anymore.

I hated the way
the scars looked
on my body
so I put it down
for good.

now
years later
I crave another method
though this one
does not directly
draw blood
or leave scars
that anyone can see.

hit me.

not with your fist
but with your words.

hit me so hard
that I can feel it
in my heart.
so I can feel that you
still care
about my existence.

get mad at me.
get frustrated.
"why can't you get over it?"
he asks
"it's not that hard to be happy!"

I'm sure
that for you
sweet boy
sweet
sweet
boy
that happiness
is easier
for you
than it is for me.

but here
lean in close
and
listen carefully:
I'm trying
my hardest
to get
just
that.