If I have the energy to heal,
then do I have the energy to expend?
To let myself try to love again?

Is it wise to take the little bit I have
And turn it to another and not myself?
Shouldn't I have learned by now?

Why am I not more reserved?
This energy isn't truly in abundance,
and would it not be selfish to think the small amount I have to give is enough for someone else?
It is barely enough for me.

This heart is so foolish,
and I have yet to learn how to tame her rash desires;
I wish she knew to quiet down.

Every time I push people away,
I wait for the door to rat-a-tat-tat
and revolve back into my face;
I had never considered how often I steal opportunities away from myself by running.

I run until I collapse,
and I've stolen compassion, and understanding with every half-sprint I take away from everyone that has ever cared for me,
because what do you do when they genuinely love you?

I don't know why it is so hard to believe that they could love me,
or that I am not wasting their time by asking for help,
but I know that I live in this doublethink,
where I both love myself, but no one else could possibly love me too.

Haven't you seen me like this before?
I'm on the brink of understanding
I have a difficult time loving myself in actions, just in theories in my head.
This is why I run like this,
and by constantly shielding myself from perceived danger,
I am actually blocking potential kindness too.

If I shut off the danger and the kindness, what will I have left for myself? Nothing.
I can't keep doing this,
I am going to have to let them in.

What if you were to see my tears of joy, instead of sadness?
What if I were to bask in the warm waves and let them consume me?
What would the world be like if I could branch out my wings and fly like this more often?

Would you even recognize me?
Would you understand all that I missed during my times of sorrow?
Would you notice when I am reborn into happiness, and will you remember it too?

God, I hope so.

This feeling is transformative,
to be alive like this,
and it is so comforting to be
held in the universe's embrace.

Perhaps you'll get a taste of who I've always been.

Tiny porcelain masks;
why not see what happens when you watch them fall?

Look at how
fragile and delicate they are,
each one hand-crafted to hide away
life's torments.

Be honest with yourself,
and retire them
before they crack against your own will.

People keep trying to tell me that it wasn't real love,
and I know how wrong they are when they say it;
people don't want to face the idea that a bad person is capable of love,
but they are,
and a lot of bad people have loved me.

I always took to doubting myself
and so it was no surprise I did
again and again and again
when you had me under your fingertips.

That night I finally saw you,
after months of being apart,
you hoisted me up on your bed
and the look in your eyes seemed so foreign;
there was a hunger there I had never seen before.

I was a bit uncomfortable,
but I missed you so much I didn't care
to think on it further;
but your touch was different too,
and for a split second, I thought,
I'd almost jolt up and leave.

It was so bizarre to me,
you used to be so scared to have me to yourself,
and all of a sudden your hands
were no longer afraid, and,
your grip was a bit stronger than before;
I should have known something was wrong.

This was the closest I had ever come to
feeling like your prey,
and it wasn't right;
every other time you held me,
I could feel the restraint,
that you had chosen a gentle touch
instead of being so demanding,
and I thought that meant you loved me enough
to be delicate.

Was that the case?
Why, now, were you able to be different?
A mechanism like that shouldn't be so easy to switch on and off.

What happened?
Was it becoming too difficult to keep up your facade?
Did you even realize you didn't change back for me?
Why do I always doubt myself?