I.
we are standing in the firing line
and by we, i mean your gun
pointed at my chest and my gun
you've got the scissors
and i no longer have my wings
my biggest bully, we
and by we, i mean your palms
stinging against my skin, my fists
buried again and again into
my own stomach

II.
a child born in a burning house
thinks the whole world is on fire
but it's so clear that's a lie because i
knew from the start that this wasn't right
but why's that mean it's wrong either
cause i love them more than i
love life and more than i love myself
a child born in a burning house
can still look out her window
and she can see it, but she'll never understand
cause the ashes taste sweet when you're born in gray sand
and when you're hungry for long enough
the empty sorta feels fuller than nutrients
and when you lick enough knives
silver spoons no longer seem lovely, just cruel
a burnt child can love the fire
with all of her shattered heart
but the fire can't love you back and
the affliction becomes her constant companion
so when she finally finds that silver spoon
it's hard to believe he loves her sometimes
because love has never not been cruel

III.
you asked me if i'd ever been unconditionally loved -
i said yes, because sometimes
when you want something and you don't get it
you want someone to believe you have it
so you lie
it wasn't really lying
i just forgot to mention
the comments my aunt nettie always made
about my weight when i was little or
the jokes my uncle steve made about
my tanktop that showed too much skin
i forgot to mention my grandparents taking
my father's side simply because he is my father
and they may not agree, but
he can parent me as he deems fit,
even if i am the butt of the jokes
because if i'm not perfect all of the time
then i am the laughingstock of this family but
it wasn't really lying when i told you yes
because when i snuck upstairs and cried
my cousin's quiet feet would always follow
and she found me, every time
no matter where i'd hide
she would hold me
and i would cry
i didn't have a mom i could be broken in front of
a dad i could cry in front of
and for a long time, i didn't even have a god
but i had a cousin
and she loved me unconditionally
so even when i was more alone
than many people will ever be
i wasn't really alone
somewhere, my cousin loved me
and somewhere, i loved her back

IV.
when you make a candle
you can't see the wick after a while
it's buried under wax
but you can still light it on fire
just like me, my poetry, and pain from years ago