Body displacement

I don’t want to think you ever understood me.

Because when you called me that,

You must’ve understood how terribly wrong it was.

How I feel so terrible about myself at times,

And how I feel my body disintegrate

And how I wish I was not a human

How I have a bit of existential tension and terror

Of how I was created,

And who I am,

And what I am

And what we are all made of,

And how much I try and make this work.

I sometimes feel asexual, but I never told you

I am terrified of intimacy

The build up

The end.

I know you meant it,

And that’s the worst part.

I have these black eyes

I feel like I can see you too vividly

And I wish I was something else,

I was thinking about what you called me,

And wondered if you could read my mind.

Not because you were right,

But because of how cruelly you cut into

My body dysphoria.

And how you continue to keep my safety shut out,

While you laugh

And continue to let my melancholy

Slip out

You absolutely acknowledge I’m sad.

You just don’t care.