Go Away.

You used to know me when I was a little girl-
I was a little girl and you always left me waiting.
You always left me waiting inside the house-
waiting inside the house for your call-
your call that hardly ever came.
It hardly ever came, but when it did?
When it did it was always a new excuse-
a new excuse that left me crying-
crying in the company of my mother.
My mother, whose hand would run up and down-
up and down my back trying to calm me down-
calm me down in the midst of the panic-
the panic that would follow me-
follow me right into my young adulthood.

My young adulthood introduced me to so much-
so much I didn’t understand-
I didn’t understand why I wasn’t sleeping.
I wasn’t sleeping because I was losing my mind.
I was losing my mind so very fast-
so very fast like my racing thoughts.
My racing thoughts quieted for a few weeks-
for a few weeks I was sleeping.
I was sleeping and it was all okay-
it was all okay until I saw you.
I saw you and everything came back-
everything came back so suddenly-
suddenly I was a little girl again.
I was a little girl again but I was angry-
I was angry and I was uncomfortable.
I was uncomfortable with the way you looked at me-
you looked at me like you knew me.
But you knew me when I was waiting-
waiting inside the house for your call-
your call that hardly ever came.

It hardly ever came and I chose to cut you out-
cut you out because I knew what I needed.
I needed you to go away.
Go away.