i can't help but wonder,
how many times i've been here before.
saying the same words,
while sitting on the same bed

each time was supposed to be the last

i can't help but wonder,
why you do the things you do.
sometimes you tell me to go,
other times i'm supposed to stay

and i can't help but wonder,
what's in it for you?

we don't kiss
anymore
and i don't feel love
anymore

you keep me close
but never close enough
and
you speak words
without saying much of anything at all

so, i can't help but wonder,
when will i sit on this bed for the last time?
and when will i believe these words that i say?

it's always strange to me
when people are surprised that i cry;
that i feel

my body is seen
as an exuberant being
i must hide it so well;
the war in my mind

in quiet moments
i spend hours
searching for
reasons to love myself
because most of the time
self-love
just seems so foreign

they lie to you
when they say
you have to love yourself
before you can be loved
by others

you are worthy
of love
even if
clouds
obscure your view,
& even when
demons
tell you otherwise

it's such a strange feeling
to feel nothing at all

my soul was left deserted
but it's just my own downfall

i still laugh
and cry
still smile
and frown

that's just second nature
it's what you're supposed to do

but reacting to the world around us
doesn't make us any more alive
than the rain outside a window
can be interpreted as god's cry

don't say
that you're
leaving
even if
you think
you have
to go

it is ok
if i can't let you go
all at once

little by little
i will
misplace your pieces

until all that remains
is the stencil
of where you used to lie

i thought
i was
moving
forward
but it was
just the world
moving
around me