did i start the poetry train rollin? awesome
I don’t know why he thinks I’m the fragile one, when he
cannot handle sleeping any less than 8 hours
without turning into a moody mess; when he
cannot spend one lazy weekend without seeing his friends
and cracks when he cannot play
less than 20 hours of video games a week.
It may be true that my hips look
like I ran them through a meat grinder,
and my tear ducts get more excersize than
my lungs have in years,
but I sleep 2 hours every night and
take care of my problems.
He loses himself in a flurry of
defensive apathy and bad excuses for
aggressiveness over what i consider child’s play.
I may spend days frustrated and alone, no freetime
with bruised eyesockets and
bloody gauze sandpapering away in my waistband,
panic attacks in the car- but I never
let anyone feel like they aren’t loved
just because I’m not 100%.