Slink down, under the heavy sheet and between the lies you told me
You never lie to my face; that I know of
You take so long to get ready, it makes sense that I can't leave on time.
I tell you start early, but you won't change. You won't change and I won't leave.
Blue pills, pink pills, you don't discriminate. You swallow yours and I swallow my pride as I call your parents for the final time.
It doesn't have to hurt like this, we started so early, maybe I just changed too fast.
I tell myself I'm not like my mother, and I know you aren't like my father. Why do I get the sick feeling when I'm underneath your sheets
It's heavy and slow but not soft
My anxiety builds like legos, connecting all my fears into painful plastic blocks that build our house.
We don't have to live here, but I have to live here.
You make me laugh but right now I need to cry.
I don't know the right thing, I don't want to smell the beer on your breath when I'm trying not to hear the lies. It makes it too obvious that you'll never leave on time, and I've already changed.
YOU ARE READING
A collection of small poems (Lo fi beats and rain in the background)
PoetryA unique collection of words, short poems, and sounds you could probably make with your mouth. Some of it is true, some of it is just a long metaphor for my fears and hopes. Either way, it's definitely coming from a place of growth.
