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1.

you say i have no heart,
no empathy,
but i can fake it
and i fake it so well
because no one knows.
no one catches my lies
when they’re still on
the tip of my tongue
or when they’re rolling off.

i’m always too much
or too little
of something –
of everything.

“you know,
i think i’d like you more
if you weren’t
so
damn
cold.”

you say i’m cold.
you want me nonetheless,
but you want me
to change.

contention hits me like a fist
and i am trapped –
wrapped between you and your words.
they swim around the room,
taunting me.
i close my eyes
and they make their way
down
down
down my throat.
it’s bitter, like salt
or cum
or a cup of bad coffee.
i go rigid.
the room is suddenly an ocean
conflict is the waves
crashing up against my rocky spine.

"this is what
a real girl should be."

hell isn't a fiery pit,
it's here
and hell isn’t just
for the devil,
it's for us.

my face reddens.
i’m angry and
i give myself away.
i give myself away to the first person
who isn’t you.

2.
i tried to say
people are people and
people are flawed.
we hurt,
we fuck,
we feel,
just like any other
but it never quite sank in.

so
i’m not crying –
i’m not trying,
not anymore.
i bury myself.
i bury myself in books,
in work,
in anything but you
and the rest is lost
in translation.