We love to hate each other.
Both convinced
That the other one of us
Is the most fucked up of us;
Needs us.
Building dependency.

Other girls

He told me I was different
To all those other girls.
I was smarter, funnier,
Prettier and witter
Unlike all those other girls.

Unlike all those other girls,
I was stronger, less hysterical,
More logical, more rational.
I had a male brain.
Unlike all those other girls.

And, like those other girls,
It broke my heart to think
That he’d had all those other girls.
That he had such a low opinion
Of those other girls;
Those nameless girls
With no defining features.
Unremarkable girls.
Other girls.

And I realised that, after a life
Spent wishing to be more like other girls,
I’d rather be another girl
With his long line of other girls.


To be seen

To be seen.
Not just to be seen, but to be looked at.
And when looked at, to be looked at with understanding;
An acceptance that comprehends more than is known.

To be heard.
Not just to be heard, but to be listened to.
And when listened to, to listen to the words which are said, unsaid, and in-between;
To find meaning in intention not yet committed to action.

To be touched.
Not just to be touched, but to be felt.
And when felt, to be felt entirely;
To be embraced without judgement.