You Asked For Space and I Only Got Bigger

(this way you will never lose sight of me–even if your words filled me with so much pain)

Fill me up. Even when my skin starts to break and my eyes start to bulge and I become unrecognizable

Fill me up. I will not cry and I will not scream and I will not beg I will only accept whats coming as you

Fill me up. And I lose sight and smell and touch as I become as big as this room and I say:

“Fill me up.”


Or…(a flashback to high school)

Flashback: piss poor speakers blaring Lil Wayne in our small town. I, embarrassed, ask you to turn it down. You, headstrong, ignore me.

We are unhappy. We are not meant to be in this car, listening to this song, in this town. We are not meant to be together at all.

And yet that moment, a moment that I have lived so many times, on so many days, is something I remember best about you (or us). Our differences so fucking clear–but we were too comfortable (or too afraid of change).

So I listened to that fucking Lil Wayne song so many times that my tongue recognized the lyrics, my feet the tempo–until I understood that I never should have been listening in the first place.