my fear is a tangible thing.
it is the amorphous monster
under my bed or in my closet
(depending on the telling)
its the goodbyes never said
and the emptiness where
someone used to be.
my fear is that little voice in
the back of my head, whispers,
you know youre too much and
you know youre not enough.
my fear is the hope that i have
or have had or will have
and it is the way that hope will
eventually fail me.
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:39 PM UTC
the fear buzzes
(like bees)
in my chest, in
my lungs:
what am i
when you dont
want me?
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
i do not need someone to
complete me i
am already complete and
i just need someone to
hold me close when the
darkness
gets to be too much.
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC
i used to think of myself
as one of those old
empty houses with
crumbling bricks and
ivy crawling up the sides
i used to be so empty
inside
then you came like a
whirlwind and dusted
off my rotting floors and
threw open the shutters
and lit me from the inside
out
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
you think you have me
all figured out
like a map, or the path
you take home everyday
but i am incomprehensible,
unknowable
you do not understand
the words i whispered to
myself in the dark
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
why should i hide
my teeth and
dull my claws
for you?
what have you
done to earn that
sort of gentleness?
theres power in my fury
in the aching, weeping wounds
you tear into me
you dont have the right to tell me
to hide the monster you made of
me
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:26 PM UTC
i am trying not to be
resentful of the body
you gave to me, to
live within the lines
as they have been
defined, but i am
still scratching
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:23 PM UTC
i was built for gentle
summer afternoons
where the trees
reflect in my eyes
and the sun can only
hope to be as bright
as your smile.
these grueling lonely
nights are foreign to
me like the faces you
see every day but dont
know the names of.
i wasnt made for this.
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
i do not like who i am when
winter calls; it chaps my
lips and rubs my cheeks
raw, subjects me to grey
days and long nights.
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
beautiful words do not
come easy to me and
i am drowning in the
smell of you, of your
skin on my skin, the
taste of your voice
on my lips.
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC