I don't want to write about
Love and the way you taste,
The gentle way your hands feel
when tangled in the curls of my hair.

I don't want to write about
The rain and the way it smells,
The calming pitter patter
beating against the window.

I don't want to write about
The monsters I know,
The way they haunt me
with their inescapable whispers.

I don't want to write about it.
I can't write about it.

"Even your own body hates you,
enough to betray your mind."

The coldest thing
I could have heard
on that day
was what you said.

It was a bad day,
A hot day
full of my burning fear
and your scorching desire.

But what you said was so cold
So cruel
So utterly and completely terrifying
and absolutely humiliating.

"Even your own body hates you,
enough to betray your mind."

Go to sleep before you dream.*
I've come to enjoy dreaming
far more than waking;
so much so, that I forget
to remember that I am awake.
Drifting mind and drifting eyes,
I swear, I want to be somewhere else.

I hope heaven is real,
because I know you'll be happy
for the first time.
If there is a paradise,
I hope you're there.

They leave a bad taste,
Bitter on the tongue;
The words I never said.

They fluttered around,
Desperate to escape,
But I swallowed them whole.

I love you,
I hate you,
Please don't go.

I swallowed them,
but it sickened me
to keep them contained.

Sometimes,
I don't feel much.
Cold and emotionless,
Unsympathetic.

But other times,
I feel every last drop of emotion.
Like my body is on fire,
Too much.

Everything is so frightening.
Tip the scales...
and let me
*balance