it has come to my attention the ways in which you wanted me, and how good it felt to be wanted because anything less than attention was neglect to me.
it has come to my attention where the attention stemmed from.
not its cause, but that it is a symptom of something i could understand
if i took the time to look at it-
if i weren’t so sick of looking at the causes
of the symptoms
of other peoples
it has come to my attention that i have served needs
that became my needs
that were never my needs
that were never personal
except that i made them so
after no one else could face their own
Sometimes, saving the self involves
the slaughter of others
and you bleed all the same.
it has come to my attention that for the longest time
and perhaps still,
tho less often,
i was only wanted for one thing-
which is a tragic irony
because no matter what you saw
i have spent my whole life
It has come to my attention that I have grown ugly on the inside
and it has begun to leak out…
through my insides at first,
despite my attempts to starve it.
it killed my mother and i feared…
i will be next.
it leaks out in my frantic way of doing things
that amount to a repettitive pattern of doing nothing
over and over again.
it leaks out in my rage filled screams at all things truly beautiful-
because i cannot control what comes so natural to them…
it has come to my attention that i have always felt
and you have always left me here
to be ugly.
that i have been mostly,
a thing to endure.
endless conversations you have endured,
and little girl dreams,
just so you could touch me.
and now i’m all grown up,
stuck in this child’s heart-
still being endured and lead to believe
that it’s something different,
something more than,
what i know it is.
it has come to my attention that growing ugly is worse than growing old.
that growing old is wiser and more graceful.
that growing ugly is just a slow way to die.