Savior Complex

You do not need to be saved. 
You do not need to suckle from my teat, 
knead into my skin, and beg 
to be caressed in my lap.

I will not listen to your struggles 
any longer, and I have stopped 
expecting you to return the favor.

I promise you, I am not the one asking for too much. 

Born with nothing I know now, 
years of self-loathing solidified 
and strengthened my skin into scabs—
a hard exterior to protect the bruises below. 

You have always been one to welt and ooze. 

I found it endearing
that you never knew the level of heat that made you drip 
and melt, nor did you know the opposite of warmth. 
With the changing of the temperature, I find myself 
sucked dry, sore, and soaked.

With any hand but your own on the thermostat. 
Do you know what temperature I like?

Ada Cobbs

Ada Cobbs is a senior English Education major at Kent State University. After taking a poetry course for her major requirements, she fell in love with writing poetry, something she never would have expected. Her work revolves around the most important things to her: growth, girlhood, and escaping her hometown expectations.