Interiors
He is torturing me again.
I feel as if I am slowly going mad.
He calls me Ted Bundy.
Wasn’t he a serial killer?
You don’t think, he yells at me.
He gets up close and makes as if to hit me.
He stops himself.
I look up at him.
I don’t say anything.
I don’t say anything anymore.
I just cry.
———-
Fuck the system and overpaid therapists
She doesn’t love me
Why does she not love you?
My sister is prettier and more accomplished than me
Looks are important to her?
My sister’s skin is as pale as hers, she has
European friends, an American boyfriend who used to play
varsity football and straight hair, that’s important to our mother.
Where is your sister now?
She lives in Europe
I am just a failure in her eyes
Of course you’re not a failure
Always have been
They love you
I am not pale with Slavic cheekbones
I’m not getting through to you
My father is paying for this and I’m not going to listen to you
if you don’t listen to me. My family is supposed to love me
Is it because you’re depressed
It’s because I’m not good enough. That’s why she doesn’t love me
If you were prettier then she’d love you
Yes
If you were a clinical psychologist then she’d love you
If your boyfriend was caring towards you
Yes, yes, yes.
———-
Poems © Abigail George Image: Dall-E 3 modified AW