It is everything you do, for me.
It is how you ignore me when you can clearly see my messages. Because you get a lot, you watch the one I send go down and down the pile. Say you are busy when I complain and punish me with more ignoring.
It is how you make me feel small. Inconsequential. Unimportant. Invaluable. Just a tiny peripheral addition to your life that can be easily discarded on the days you are tired.
It is how to treat me sometimes. Like I am an inconvenience. A zit on your forehead, ruining all your fine boy pictures and getting you unsolicited annoying skincare advices.
It is how to look at me when I touch you. Like my hands are cold. Straight from the deepest part of Antarctica, far into the north pole, like my touch will freeze you up. You frown and scrunch your face into undesirable, cannot-be-fixed-by-snapchat filters. I recoil into my shell like a snail tapped on the skin, because why do you look at me like that?
It is how you never say sorry, but try to make up by asking me ‘How was work?’ Honey, I know you do not care about work, and if I did not bring it up, you would not ask. I know this because you have asked me ‘How was work?’ just three times in our entire relationship. All three times, you had hurt me, or thought you did. You try to make up sometimes by pulling me in for a cuddle because you know I love how your body feels next to mine.
It is how to give me small drops of the things I really like, and take them away when I am angry and when I ask for them, you say a ‘No’. I ask you often ‘Did I do something wrong?’ and you say, ‘because I said no? Don’t I have the right to say no?’
It is how you smile on the phone in the middle of the nights for me. Tap tapping. Conversing with everyone else and telling me you hate small talk. So there I am, wanting to talk to my lover and getting ignored.
It is how you call me names when we fight. Names you never apologize for. Names I try to forget because words stick, baby, they do.
It is how you constantly remind me of all my past sins, like you want me to keep being apologetic for them.
It is how you never do the things I really want because you do not think they are necessary.
It is how you tell me I hurt myself when you hurt me. It is how you say hurtful words and when I cry, you tell me ‘I read it how I wanted to and you are not responsible for that’It is how you make me beg every damn time. It is how you like the broken love I give you. The one that stems from being destroyed, being torn apart and pulled in different directions
It is how you have said, proven, and showed me consistently that I would never be it for you.
It is everything you do, for me. Everything.
Abigail, 2021
