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If I Was Like a Little Sister to You, Why Didn't You Protect Me?
If I clung too tightly
to a hand that wasn't necessarily mine to hold
know that I took the accidental brushing of knuckles on that summer walk deeper than the world is old
and when you told me that you didn't feel quite right and I said I felt that way too
as sorry as I was to hear that you're scribbled I felt less inside myself to share the vision of eskewed
Then I told you about the things I did to myself
the way I coped with my head things and where I put myself in attempt to feel anything other than "sad"
You took it so lightly
I explained how I never learned to touch myself gently
how I always picked at the scabs
You smiled and kissed my forehead and reassured me that I was just a child and things weren't always going to be so bad
If I breathed too heavily
against your neck that wasn't necessarily mine to exhale against
know that I mistook my festering attachment and comfort in you as a motive to scratch my nails down your back
and when you let it go just far enough for me to believe that I was anything other than your system to repair
I was horrified to have been so invested in you that I fell more inside myself and rested heavily on the concept of killing myself and becoming something new
Then I told you about the plans I had for myself
the way I reacted to your swatting at my hand and the impersonal affection you convinced me that was "only mine to have"
You took it so lightly
I explained how I never learned to touch myself gently
how I had begun to run out of scabs
You made no expression and half-heartedly reassured me that I was just a child and things weren't always going to be so bad
