This body of mine is not
Made up of braille.
You do not need to touch me
To know me.
I have felt emptiness
Through fingertips
Enough times to last me until
I die.
Give me warmth.
Look at me.
Show me what you mean.
I want to be taught how other people
Enjoy relationships and bodies
And don't flinch at the amount of movement created by humans walking past me, noisy and unaware of how it feels in my head.

I want calm comfort now.

Sometimes I feel like my bones are made up of inflated balloons.
Filled with flat air that never floats me in the right direction.
I have skin and clothes covering them but with every step I still hear them move.

And everyone sees me.

Just because he can't love me
Doesnt mean I am unlovable.
Just because I was told I am
Incapable
Doesnt mean I have to stop myself
From being capable.

I am valid.

We have spent 12 years dissolving the shells we grew as we got older,
Everytime we would get close
Another layer seemed to
Disappear.
Our flesh and loving words
Became shelter over our
Open wounds.
I dont know where I end
Where you begin
Or how we do this thing called
Independance
Partnership
Detach with love.

I want to know you on the outside
And not only as this blur of comfort.

I am angry at him.
I am angry at her.
I am angry at them

I am angry at myself.

The seasons pour out of my joints and run down every limb.
My leaves grow out of my eyes and mouth and ears,
The branches wrap around every inch of my soiled skin

And she breathes.

If I don't use destructive coping mechanisms simply out of fear of rejection, abandonment or judgment..
Am I still succeeding?