lowercase

on some nights, she reaches through glass

and stabs me straight in the chest

the dagger twists and burns

with the cold that i know best

on those special, dark phone calls

i feel like i’ve changed

something’s gone, it twisted

obsolete and deranged

how many times can i say the wrong thing

make you want to cry

before i break down myself

i don’t know, i’ve never tried

contrary to popular opinion

i can be hurt as well

words can tear me down the same

i feel like i’m made out of eggshells

and with the loud, tidal wave of emotion

that spreads through her frowning

i feel my own grip slipping

but no one can see me drowning

least of all the other person in the water

she’s crying the so hard she can’t see

the spiderweb cracks in the windshield

or the hole where my heart used to be

i don’t know how to ask for help

i only know when i need it

but that only makes it worse

because then we’re both bleeding

out and down and around and around

affection pours out like honey

onto the floor and into the hall

it’s disgusting and funny

and i don’t remember how i fucked up

all i know is that every time we talk

i forget my self-worth at home

and your lean becomes a walk

i want to share smiles and laughter

and to look at your face

but you push me away

and i’m put in my place

i don’t even know why i’m wrong this time

i only know that i am

she tells me i’m untrustworthy, cruel, unusual

all of that in one package

what a deal on this

lowercase person

a small-scale monstrosity of a human being

not even worth the upper half of the page