i didn't want her to hold me
because i knew what it meant.
she saw me crying and she wanted to hold me,
i couldn't wrap my arms around her.
by her embrace,
i knew it meant that she saw me falling apart and she was trying to hold me together,
to make feel better.
but i felt nothing but this ocean of sadness.
i didn't want her to hold me,
i wanted to tell her to let go but i couldn't even open my mouth.
i am far beyond repair.
i couldn't feel her touch.
oh how badly i wanted to breakdown in her arms,
fall down from my shaky knees,
and
cry.
oh how badly i just wanted to cry.
but i didn't.
i walked until she let go of me.
as we were about to part ways,
i looked up at her
with tear filled eyes and said goodbye.

Back in my teenage college years
I was told about “Autistic kids”
Who lived in worlds of their own,
Seeing things through weird and wonderful specs
In social isolation,
Frightening in its completeness.

At sixty six I since have learned about many
Of their “traits”:
Their obsessions, inflexible routines and
Panic
At all change.
Their inability to read
Emotions or social cues
Or innuendos
Or irony.

I have worked with those with Aspergers,
Colleagues, friends and clients –
Indeed with people all over
The Autistic Spectrum.

And the main thing I have learned
In all these years
Is that in my own way…
I am one of them.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\10\2018.

the sky above didn't seem so beautiful anymore,
it was grey
all
the time,
it broke into pieces that fell on top of my head when i walked home school.
sometimes i would sit on the curb of my street,
wandering how many bandaids it'd take to fix the only thing that's been keeping breathing.

i can't do this on my own.
i've tried to fix my mind by myself for years and years and every time i think i'm getting better,
the thoughts and voices come back louder than last time.
i can't do this on my own.
mother, father, sister, brother, friends,
thank you for your endless love and warmth but
there are voices you can't silence,
there are wounds that i need someone to help me heal.
i can't do this on my own.

my head and sky continues to stay grey and gloomy.
i used to like this weather but as the air gets colder,
i both get excited to wear my autumn clothes and feel like the life has been ****** out of me
and i don't know why.
how could i be happy and sad at the same time?

It’s just easy for them
Isn’t it?
This couple on the train.
They walked on laughing together
Holding hands
And I felt that familiar something-
Not jealousy
Not envy
But...
Chagrin.
Astonishment.
Incredulity.
Incomprehension.
Looking at them feels like looking at one of those
Impossible pictures
Where the stairs keep going forever in a loop.
It’s just
Easy for them.

It doesn’t hurt anymore, that thought,
But thinking it feels so odd in my mind
When I can’t imagine loving someone without
Shame,
Without pain.
They fit.
These people,
They fit without having to carve anything out.
They fit without punishing each other.
They fit like puzzle pieces cut from the same board-
No worries, they just go together, and that
Is that.
They fit like
“Of course.”
Like breathing.
Neatly.
Simply.
Carelessly.

I can’t imagine what it’s like
I can’t comprehend it-
To fit
Somewhere
Much less to fit somewhere
With someone.
I am always trying to corset myself into this world,
Lungs burning,
Trying to remain small enough to squeeze by
Catching myself by the wrist to keep from reaching
For anything.
And if there seems to be a spot where I might be able to exist as I am

It is always

Occupied.

Like a shiny pinprick
That thought hurts-
Not like the others it is newly cut
And still ******.
The idea that maybe there is a home for me
And that maybe I was too late for it.

They’re laughing.
He says something clever,
Passes a hand along the small of her back
And she leans into it,
Smiling because she loves that he wants to touch her innocently.
They seem to exist behind glass.
Not for the first time I wonder
If I could just slip into that life
Like a drop into an ocean
I want it badly
I want it stupidly
And I examine all the parts of myself,
All the edges and cracks,
All the things I’ve worked so hard to protect and repair.
It is not a welcome sight-
I am not a home
I am like an old ruin
Full of murmurings and cold spots
Full of dusty sunlight.
I sigh,
Knowing the secret I keep so poorly-
That if I really had a choice to be otherwise
I would have already made it.

I couldn’t reach them if I ran for a thousand years,
They are too far away.
They walk off the train, arms linked
Talking about nothing
And I watch them go
Like a hallucination,
Like a mirage in the desert.

Her perfume smells like forgetfulness
And it lingers.