Kyla Mayoree
I wonder how long I’ve been like this
How long I’ll be like this
The words in my throat that claw its way up to my tongue
It pushes down my taste buds and past my gums
But lose momentum on its way through my lips
Where my honesty is watered down, not really being honest
My words end up only being a fraction of what they actually intend to mean
I can’t say I love you, I can’t say I miss you
The words leave my lips and say
Wish you were here to see this
Wish I knew how you felt
But never explaining why
The longing I have for touch
Touch starved, as they say
Boils in my stomach
Bubbles up into my torso
Flows down my arms
And flicks across my fingers
But by the time they reach my fingertips
They hesitate
And after that hesitation
Comes the regret
Comes the disgust
I’ve found the answer to that question
How long have I been like this?
It feels like forever
The momentum I lost in early adolescence
When my words didn’t matter to others
As much as they did to me
And were ignored before I learned to ignore them myself
My mother tells me the hesitation has been forever
I remember it from the first time touch wasn’t reciprocated
When I was too young to know what reciprocation means
Which leads me to the answer of the next question
How long will I be like this?
This answer I fear the most
How long will I be like this?
Forever.