i think god loves everyone but me. i think god is ashamed of me. that when i scream and cry, he covers his ears, he rolls his eyes, and goes back to sleep. he drowns my screams in people praising him, but god, please, do you hear me?

i am my fathers girl. i’m not pretty, im not easy, im not soft. all i am is hollow, like dove’s bones, and i dream of being wanted; some object of desire, something heady and sweet and worthy of being held down. my agony and neediness leaves my hair messy. i tell you i love you with my whole heart. you startle, stare at me funny. but i hold none back, there is no part me that does not love you.

i will never let go. i will never be satiated. i will be damaged and scarred, you left me this way. i will continue to hunger. i have been starving since i was a little girl, always demanding more from those who will give me nothing in the end. cut your lips on my jagged edges and see how primal i can be. you’ll run away, tail tucked, cursing under your breath.

you smelled like heaven, woods, salt air, the earth. i still know you by scent alone, and that’s all that remains, now that you’re just a memory.

“so, lemme ask you something,” you started. i just nodded dumbly. “how long have you been… like this?”

i shrug. “since i was a little girl, i guess. can’t remember when i wasn’t withering away.”

you laughed. i wanted you to tear me apart, limb from limb, until my cells disintegrated. “and how long do you plan on…?”