Suicidal

 Sometimes I dream that you’re dead

You are lying there lifeless

Pale and flaccid 

It’s the first time I feel peace around you

It feels strange to be in your presence 

Without any fear

To be seen and heard

Even with you in the room.

My mind is oddly quiet

No internal broadcast of the cruel things you’ve said or could say

No soundless screams of frustration

No tentative shivering about what might set you off

No breakneck evaluating of safe or unsafe to share

It’s just you and me in the moment

Maybe this is why I’ve always wanted to die 

In my sleep

Death feels a lot like love

Overwriting

To all the children I was compared to:

You are more than just a family friend or cousin to me

I have been thinking about you for years

At first involuntarily, 

now habitually 

Usually unknowingly.

You may not know it 

As you go on with your education, jobs, relationships, parenthood and whatever else you are doing

I am quietly stacking myself against you

Everything from my wealth to my weight and my mind and my skin 

You are so much better than me

My pillow is wet from my eternal inadequacy 

My fists are clenched in anger that breeds pain

Somewhere in between the hours of berating 

And seconds of adrenalin 

that rushed in every time I was slapped, punched, choked or shoved or across a room 

I somehow created a tape of put downs in my head

That reliably plays 

on every single one of my harder days 

even all these years and miles away 

I know you could “never imagine”

You might choose not to believe

I am just the over-sharing, crazy lady

It’s ok, I’m mainly speaking to those like me 

“I see you

I believe you

You are not alone

#metoo”

Press that red button 

I want to hear your voice