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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
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
  2d empty seas
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.
i stare
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
empty seas Feb 11
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
body positivity? haven’t heard of her
  Feb 11 empty seas
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.
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