i talk to
new people i smile and wave and make new friends who is this new me? even a year ago i couldn’t imagine being this open this friendly this happy i look at old journal entries when i was constantly stressed and i’m surprised at who i have become and although anxiety still hits like needles in skin i push through it until the end
i usually write poems about all the bad stuff because that’s just what writes easiest, but I’m okay.
I’m finally okay.
i leaned on the fence
dandelion in my hand and as i blew it away i whispered i wish to forgive
i want to let go
the stars are bleeding golden wisdom from the sky drips down to us below i open my arms wide stare up at the dizzying darkness and let the stars and universe help me do what’s right
i am at a crossroads
when we met,
you planted seeds into the garden that was my heart. with every kiss, every touch, every "i love you", the seeds blossomed into beautiful flowers. then the taste of your lips turned bittersweet, but it always left me wanting more. your touch was like poison. seeping through my skin and corrupting everything that was pure and innocent. the flowers in our garden began to wilt. and all that was left was the bitter taste in my mouth, and the poison coursing through my veins. how naive of me, to let myself become addicted to the drug that was you.
and i stare my eyes are burning but i can’t look away from my safety i can’t live in the moment i’m so scared i won’t admit it to anyone’s face but i’m drowning in fear and loneliness i have no good friends people look at me as a conversation topic, not as a person it might always be this way and that’s what scares me the most
some days i wonder why i get out of bed
my soul caves on itself tangling into a tight ball as if smaller means less harm will come to it i still get the urges the want to rip my skin and fat off my thighs to change the landscape of my body because i hate and hate myself
body positivity? haven’t heard of her
I broke too much
of myself thinking someone could fix me. I should have not turned myself to pieces in the first place. Because no one would ever keep a broken mirror in their pockets.