lost sleeves

Just something in the notes on my phone. I am not a writer

You take a look at my sleeves,

and ask if I'm okay

But all I can think about, is how long you're going to stay. 

Because it'll never be long enough. It'll never be long enough. 

I tell you I'm fine. What a bitter cold lie.

You know it's not the truth, but you think I'll be better soon. 

You come into my life, acting like you'll help me with my fight. 

But instead, I have to fight yours. 

It destroyed my mind. It destroyed my health.

But instead of help, you ran away and left me on my own. 

With your weights. With my love. 

You ran out living life. But how long until that new car and freedom fades away? 

You see where you put me, and how I'm here to stay. 

Will you feel guilty? Will you feel sad? 

I hope that some god out there makes you feel bad. 

You know I can't love anyone but you.

Maybe in living my life alone, you'll see that that was true.

Author's Note

I'm not a writer. I'm just using this for therapy.

Reviews

[Ellie Qtz]

I think you are amazing and I think you can write, but you give yourself much less credit than you are owed. This poem captures how people can be selfish and ignorant, and how someone always has to pay, for therapy, this is really good