5:05 PM

C T

No one pushes quite like they pull

No one tries but it's there

No one tries to see in me

I don't see either though maybe I should

Because I see them

I see them young and I see them old

But only the ones I know I will see

When I too am old and

Envying the young

And Remembering how I could

Cry at the sight of one like me

Wrinkled and flapped

Crowsfeet

Lines of laughs

Proof of life

(I need to hear his voice more often

than not

Soon

Before I forget it

i don't have much time

i will call tomorrow!

everyday.

His lines don't feel so joyous

And my empathy hurts me on

Most days)

All I can do is

Purge words

Even I don't know the meaning to

and

Laugh at jokes

I don't understand

Anyway

i wish they would

See me as more than

Half of one

Not to be desired

Not to be loved or...

Yes to be loved.
is that so bad?

I want to be loved

I am supposed to feel

An innate beauty

Full grown adult like peace

I was more adult when I was ten

Even my elders could attest

My handwriting was beautiful

And now

The black threads are cutting into my thigh

The same black threads he drooled over the first night he saw them

The same black threads he laughs at five years later

Tattered and torn;

They are wearing me more than I wear them

Now

Much like this feeling

Owning me

Long gone long forgotten and

Hey.

I'm still here.

That's me making you bleed.

Are you ready

to part with me

yet?

Reminding me

he once liked them

I guess thats why

I've never thrown them out

and if i so (choose) to leave

prematurely

will he wish he had them

to smell

on occasion?