A Slow Kind of Suicide

Once I thought I could win you over

if only I was a little less...me.

So I stopped

forgetting to brush my hair

wearing the same shirt three days in a row

laughing so loudly

being a tomboy.

I got rid

of the grass stains and scabs

and bought a bra.

I put moisturizure on my hands

so they'd be soft

if you ever touched them.

It smelled nice, but not like me.

I didn't like it and

you didn't notice.

Once I thought I could win you over

if i made it so you couldn't live

without me.

I tried to be





the best friend you'd ever had.

It was hard because sometimes you were selfish

sometimes you were cruel

sometimes I wanted to kiss you so badly

that I hated you

for not noticing.

Once I thought I could win you over

because you put your arms around me

and told me you loved me.

Of course you did – why wouldn't you?

I took years to turn myself

into someone you could love.

My arms always linger a little

when you let me go

and I wonder if this time you will bend your head

make this more than friendship

but you never do

because you never notice.

In the end it doesn't matter

whether I win you over or not

because I can't forgive you

any more than I can stop loving you.

It should be enough that you need me

to love you

to be there for you

to go on being who I'm not.

It should be worth it

but it's not

because I killed myself for you

and you never noticed.