I lied for him.

I cried for him.

I hid everything for him.

I tried my best for him.

I could never be the best for him.

I cried so often

my own tears a mantra.

I did everything right

but I still managed to turn left,

Illegal U-Turns abandoned,

Blocked by the universal cops.

I just wanted to start over.

I’m sorry I’m not perfect.

I’m sorry that I get worse every day.

I’m sorry that my trauma affects you.

I’m sorry your house doesn’t feel safe.

I’m so sorry that I ruined everything.

I’m sorry that I’m stuck like this.

I’m sorry I cry too much.

I’m sorry.

I really do try.

If only you could see.

Maybe then you’d believe me,

see through my tear-stained glasses,

wear my tear-stained jackets.

But, mostly, I feel my need.

My need to belong,

my need to be loved,

loved by the only man that ever mattered,

the man that hurt me over and over,

watch him disappoint me

a new way each day.

Wear my daddy issues like a skin.

A defective useless skin

that’s let everything bad in

and block anything that could’ve been.

Always second-guessing,

rehearsing things I’ll never say,

too afraid of rejection

just needing some protection.