I show you every one of my
fragile parts and loose pieces
and all the badly stitched seems
and you refuse to treat me
gently. You see all my monster
parts and don’t look at me like
a freak. And sometimes I want
to be cradled like a sick child,
but you tell me to stand up
because it’ll be okay. And it is.
I get frustrated when you don’t
buy into my masochistic self
hatred or when you won’t repeat
empty ‘I love you’s just because
I need them, but the truth is I’ve
been coddled before and in the
end I’ve only felt more broken.
You force me to learn to balance
on my own wobbly legs and only
catch me when the fall is too far.
You’d rather walk beside me than
carry me and even thought I’m
often out of breath, I know I’ll
thank you when I re-learn to run.