i'm sorry I feel like dying somedays

i'm sorry that most days i want to be alone

so i shut down and i don't answer you

and i don't want to watch shows with you

and i don't want to talk 

and i don't want to hear you talk

(i hate myself more these days for hurting you)


i can't look at you straight in the eyes and tell you

my old shorts look good on you now


i can't look at you explain why they don't fit me


you asked if you could take my favorite skirt i bought two years ago

because you assumed it didn't fit me anymore


you said i should try it on and i didn't 

because i didn't want to mess with the zipper 

and have it then mess with me

so i'm letting you take my favorite skirt


you walked down to the kitchen in my jeans

i couldn't button them the other day

they looked roomy on you

i wanted to hide in the pantry


nothing on but your old t-shirt and some silk underwear

i would never


it makes me angry and i want to die somedays because of it

i just want to be comfortable too

but i'm so fucking uncomfortable in these stiff vintage jean shorts

they only fit me now (you'd need a belt)

and this tube top shows off my arm fat


you used to look in the mirror and talk about the fat on your face

like it was some curse i'd never have


i'm so fucking disgusted 

because all i can see is the fat on my face

and how it's some curse i have now

This poem is about: 
My family


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