\I was eight|I am sixteen/I will be twenty-four
Jaric Sarmiento
\they locked me inside the bathroom|my gums are bleeding/i’ll pull at my teeth in my sleep\i cried quietly to stay out of more trouble|my boyfriend is nursing a black eye/i’ll wonder if that’s a side-effect\i passed out by the toilet|he says that we can’t keep doing this/of the pill and i’ll contemplate stopping\my father woke me up by throwing me back out into the kitchen|i tell him to stop being such a drama queen and be a man/the antidepressants because it will neuter\my mother was smoking in the living room|i cough and the sleeve of ash drops to/my sex-drive which will make my self-esteem\my father muttered something about me always getting my way|the drying blood stains by my feet and my boyfriend says we have to know when to/die and i will run out of room for tally marks\he left and my mother knelt down to hold my cheek and she said|fold and i remind him that we love each other that despite all this/the seconds will numb my nerves like acupuncture\my father loved me and i needed to understand that|we love each other and he wipes the blood off my chin/i’ll settle in the bathtub and let the warm torrent of water lull me to\we are family and he just had a difficult time showing that and|he rests his forehead on mine and whispers/sleep and i’ll dream of\he loved me and she said that i wasn’t exactly making things easy for him|but this isn’t how people who love each other are supposed to act/all the people that have left me and all the people i’ve left\and she said that she wasn’t going to be here to bat for me forever|he says goodbye and i shove him off/and i’ll wake up to teeth and blood on my hands
Jaric Sarmiento is an immigrant from the Philippines currently residing in Southern California. He graduated from the University of California, San Diego with a degree in literature and mainly focuses on writing experimental explorations of depression, the absurd, and LGBTQ issues. He also likes card games.
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