i still love you, even if it hurts.
i still love you, even if it hurtsÂ
and i know you love me too
it’s the truth and yet,
it’s also what i tell myselfÂ
to spare my heart the gritty feeling of
you are nothing and how could someone everÂ
love someone as imperfect as i
i still love you, even if it hurts
to know that you do more for him than me
to know that i am not enough
i’ve spent years wondering what’s wrong
i must be the problemÂ
because surely you would love me moreÂ
if i was whole and as pristine as i fantasize to be
what if i were smarter?
what if i were funnier?
thinner? girlier? an actual boy? less of that dreadful silence
that everyone translates to “what’s wrong with you?”
but truly, and i say this with no disrespect,
but i sincerely want to know why you’re talking to me
because i’m just fine on my own
i’m fine as the spectator
maybe then they won’t focus on my flaws
i still love you, even if it hurts
that when i really needed your help
you told me you had to take care of yourself
you taught me an important lesson though
and it’s something my grandma always believed in
never put yourself in the position where you have to rely on a man
all they do is hurt
intimidate, hurt, repeat
lower your expectations
there’s no disappointment there
i still love you, even if it hurts that the family is convinced i’m spoiled
and you give me everything i could ever want
because of the narrative i’m sure you’ve fed them
and i’m left to feel guilty that i don’t come around
again, by you,
that i don’t know them becauseÂ
and somehow it’s my fault
that i was never introduced to these strangers you call kin
and i do not put myself on the line
i do not wear my insides out for all to see and devour
…no, i did that once and i left raw, angry, and sad
i still love you, even if it hurts
that every time i argue with her
she is stuck on “you don’t talk to him like this”
and i can’t express to either of you how unfair it isÂ
to place me in that predicament
of having to vouch and fight for myself
of having to defend that of course i don’t…you will always be there
…he won’t
it opens too many wounds
of those, i’m not sure she will ever fully understand
i’m not sure if i do myself
i still love you, even if it hurts
that there is less cheer in your voice when you call me now
that family seems to care less that i’m there,Â
set on jabbing each thread of me with thinly veiled remarks
that i’m not sure if i’ll ever recover from your disregard of my feelings
that i don’t believe i’ll ever find someone because it’s really hard to trust men
and i’m so thoroughly intimidated i switch lanes in the grocery if the cashier is male
so thoroughly unsure of my own existence that i subtly shrink myself in the presence of the men of my family and hope i’m unnoticed
don’t peer too closely —i’m liable to break and run, hide within myself until they're gone
i still love you, even if i pretend i don’t
even if i pretend i won’t miss you when you’re gone
there are happy moments there, though
singing with you is my favorite
so i make sure to keep every voice noteÂ
so on the days when it hurts a little less
and i want to love you even more
but i can’t pick up the phone at all
i can still hear the sound of your voice
