i'm up past my bed time
trying to break my bones open
remembering the echoes:

i thought they'd love me if
i stopped hurting myself to hurt them,
so i hid the blades out of reach & they
stopped seeing my pain.

i thought they'd love me if
i stopped being so condescending,
so i stopped talking & they
stopped listening.

then i thought they'd love me if
i wasn't so fucking fat (even though
secretly, inside, i really thought
i was skinny)
so i stopped eating & they
stopped seeing me (because
i was so thin, they could see
right through me).

& finally i thought they'd love me if
i went back to being me again but
they never really loved me to begin with
& i was never really me at all.

i was always just the person
i thought
they'd want me to be.

(but they never really
wanted me at all.)