Where’s My Lemon?

Where’s My Lemon?

i always order the water with lemon and they always forget

but i hold my tongue because i don’t want to make a scene

like my grandma says “you are too emotional” so i learn to swallow my feelings never truly satisfied

my wants never satiated my needs put last because my family believed i was under them

people believed i was next to nothing the world saw me as a disposable object so i fought hard to be useful

to the world to people to my family

but not myself

for i saw myself as that burdensome load never needed. just too much

my need for happiness was too much i didn’t deserve that i should be happy with what i got because like my auntie said

“people have less than you” for you are ungrateful

too ungrateful for love for a hug when you need comfort a kiss to confirm their affection for the simple words of “i love you” pulled from their tightened lips

like it was a chore

it was a chore to love me methodical. an obligation.

convincing me to be okay with the bare minimum events that require no energy acts that held no value

like that glass of water that is free like its familiar bland taste i take sips of it to appease them

but i am forced to ponder

where’s my lemon?