It feels like you don’t even care about me. Like you can’t take the 5 seconds out of your day to respond to me. Like you don’t value the amount of joy and connection my lips and eyes give you. And if you can’t appreciate the dedication and time I donate to you then I will not allow you to take advantage of my being. I will not allow you to use me and fulfill your ego. I do not expect the world from you but I also expect more than bare minimum. If you did not want a relationship then why would you do this and that and this and that and over and over and over again. Why would you buy me things for your home and ask me to be yours. I do not understand why you would ask to go on dates, to be exclusive, to take up so much of my time for you to say you do not want a relationship. For you to say you want to be friends. For you to not even call or text me.  Maybe it is the validation I seek or the closure or the unwavering need to feel in control. Maybe it is because I am the one who leaves so that I can avoid this. And all I want is for you to show up and say you’re sorry and explain. I can only hope to avoid tomorrow. I can only hope to not see you. I can only hope for so long. Before I think and know that if he cared he would’ve called by now. If he cared about me the way I care for him he would have done something. Maybe it is my fault for saying I do not want to keep doing the weird in between thing. But it is not my fault. It is not my responsibility to ensure he is there or here or with me. It is his responsibility to want me and to put effort into that. For this has shown me so much more than what a kiss ever could.

You are more than
the fear that holds you back.

You are more than
the sorrow that you carry within.

You are more than
the pain that keeps you away
from yourself.

You are more than
the anger that consumes you.

You are more than
you think you are.

The intimacy I crave
My soul at peace with yours
My smile unafraid
My laugh free to fly around the room
My tears capable of swelling
My body able to breathe in and out, to sweat, to bloat, to become larger, to become smaller
My lips caressed often
You being you
With me

I tried to understand
When you asked me to let you in
I tried to open my heart
I opened my arms
I opened my past
I shared
And I do not feel the reciprocation
I feel my energy and output is much greater than yours
Maybe I fail to understand what it means for you to share something
I know you do not understand what it means when I share everything

I listened to a sermon on Easter
I am not religious
Nor do I believe a God exists
But he does.
So I’ll listen with respect
And eagerly await the next words with interest.
This one was on Life after the Letdown.
It hits home.
Life goes on after the worst moments,
The times you thought you wouldn’t make it.
All the times you tried to end it- life goes on.
Every single time you thought you couldn’t make it.
You did.
One way or another.
And the sermon stated, all the times you tried to **** yourself God wouldn’t let you. He was not done with you yet.
So the others? That make it? He’s just done with them?
I cannot accept that.
I do not understand the faith.
I cannot wrap my head around it.
I cannot pour my soul into it
My heart will not open for something so unreal to me.
I do not need a God to have a plan for me, A God to love and cherish me,
A God to somehow forgive me, for what sins?
A God to comfort me in the dark times-
A God to comfort me when I do not know.
It is simply a comfort the same way you lay in bed,
Or eat certain foods,
Or breathe in fresh air.
Or the same way your drink,
The same way you inject,
The same way you ignorantly believe whatever side of the aisle you are on.
It is all the same.
Everything and nothing.
And it doesn’t matter either way.
Because after every Letdown
Life will go on
With or without
God

The same way someone describes their grandmother passing
The same way they see her there
The same way there is a lack of presence
Soul
Whatever it is that makes her, her
Is the same way depression feels
Is the same thing I’ve seen in people alive
The same exact feeling The same way someone describes their grandmother passing
The same way they see her there
The same way their is a lack of presence
Soul
Whatever it is that makes her her
Is the same way depression feels
Is the same thing I’ve seen in the living
The same exact feeling
You watch them disappear