I heard her cries for help without ear-buds in.
She wrote in blood because tears weren’t thick enough.
and pity, to her, is the last thing she needs.
She wasn’t ever asking for it and isn’t now.
Her quest for nightmares to free the monsters she trapped has since passed.
She eats vegetables.
She mows the lawn.
She goes for short walks because she wants a body that listens to her SCREAMING
“…please, just let me live without pain.”
“FUCK THIS PAIN”
she finds the ways to make it go away.
“I love you for meeting your needs in whatever way you can.”
“I love you for being resourceful.”
“I love you for continuing on when you’ve never had to.”
“I love your shape, the way you express yourself in movement, the sounds that you make, the love that you give away, the effort you put in your day, the things you care about, the colors that adorn your frame.”
“I love the cozy places that you’ve built to hide.”
“I love your walls. I love your pain. I love your voice on all those voiceless days.”
I heard your voice on all those voiceless days.