I am strong.
That's what others say of me.

But its not true.
I'm only strong for those I love.
I don't let them see me broken.
I hold my composure
Act as if everything will be okay

But when I'm alone at night,
That's when I become weak.
I am as fragile as life.
I shed countless tears,
My body trembles in agony,
Air escapes my lungs as I hyperventilate,
Until I finally pass out.

As I sleep,
Nightmares torment me,
They eat me alive
Until I wake up
with a tear stained pillowcase.

I am not strong.
The people I love,
They make me strong.

I am like an onion with no center,
It seems you can take off as many layers
As you like, but shall never find a center,
None you can ever find. I'm so high in trends,
All you need to do is call out my name on a
City street and I'm insulted that it was you
And not one of my "more important" friends,
Whilst if I seem interested in calling upon all
Of your secrets and probing into your life,
I am as by all rights granted such permission
Upon having a car, richer, and have a husband/wife.
I am the "real me," on all fronts "special and great,"
Although I've never apologized for being foolish, wrong, or late.

I remember when I needed a ear
Not one came near
So I became strong
To listen to you, when you think you're in the wrong.

You smirk as I tell you (I hold up my thumb and index fingers micrometers from one another to provide a visual reference ) that you make me feel "this" big.
I shrink further.

I. Being such a
small.
weak.
petty.
insignificant.
pathetic excuse for a man
struggle beneath the weight of your constant requests... -no-

demands:
"I'm hungry."
"I need a cigarette."
"Get your hands off me."
"I'm bored... let's do something."

I ******* adore you. I worship you. You are an ocean and I am merely a single grain of sand. I pray to God that he make me the ME that would YOU would appreciate most. I say

"Anything for you baby."

This one-sided tail-chasing brain **** of a relationship is so twisted that even when I satisfy your demands, I keep shrinking... evident I prove weakness- not worth.

"Can I have another cigarette?"
This is the last thing you say to me before i drive away.  
"I love you",  I silently narrate as I hand you a smoke.

No.
You know what?
*******.

I hope this is the cigarette that causes cancer.
I hope you drop this cigarette while you're driving and swerve into the oncoming lane; searching for it as it burns your ******* gorgeous, flawless legs.
I hope you fall asleep with it lit and I hope it burns you up; leaving your chair and clothes intact (a curious occurrence called the "wicking" effect). I will spread whispered rumors that it was spontaneous combustion... so that others too might see you as this rare and unique and sorrowfully amazing phenomena that I know you to be.

As I drive off, I continue shrinking until
I.
This:
Small.
Petty.
Weak.
Insignificant.
Pathetic excuse for a man is just a single grain of sand on some shore of a beautiful ocean who could give a **** less.

Born a baby girl,
they said with tears in their eyes
"She will be soft, and quiet, and beautiful."
They stared at her with undying love
knowing she would one day fit perfectly
in a mans trophy case.
So she grew and was tended to,
a rose ripe for the picking.
I say rose because roses are lovely.
Plain. Soft. Supple. Silent.
Her words had always been white crayon on blank paper,
mosquitoes swatted at summer picnics,
ear infections that invaded the canal but never quite reached the brain.

She was taught to dress all in white
and never speak up at the dinner table.
Opinions are for crazy people and so is any splash of colour.
She sat in her silence until her white dress started to blend into the walls.
Invisibility is a super power!
Just watch any action movie that wasn't made for little girls.

When lying in the dark it is tempting
to raise a hand to ones face.
See how no distinction can be made between a human body
and the air surrounding it?
Imagine doing this in the light of day.
There came a time where she could no longer handle the sight
of her own emptiness
and squeezed her eyes shut to discover galaxies
hiding beneath her eyelids.
She smiled and colours came surging through the cracks in her teeth.
Staining her white face
and her white dress
and her white walls.

Her Mother screamed and her Father cried.
No boy would ever love a girl they could see.
One with flowers blossoming beneath her feet
and suns exploding behind her eyes.
They mourned her that day.
Her silence was never supposed to grow volumes.

To them she died the day she came alive.