i open up
they walk away

hope is but a cruel creature
biting at your insides,
while claiming to be keeping you alive.
love is but a nail,
driven into your chest so deeply and so brutally,
you can’t ever get it out.
acceptance is but a cage,
keeping you locked from your desires
because they have wings,
and you can’t stretch your arms that far
through the bars.
but sweetheart, I reach out anyway,
and I hope,
and I love,
until my insides are nothing
but blood stained metal,
straining to survive.

I think maybe
I write poetry
To not feel so alone.

I think maybe
I write poetry
To figure out my feelings

I think maybe
I write poetry
To feel that I still can

I think maybe
I write because
I want the reassurance
That I was here

My walls will cave in (just like placards stacked up horizontally fall back with the wind) along with every wave of anxiety-
Right then, I will fall short of words, or rather lose the intelligence of speaking-
Goosebumps, butterflies, shivers and my heart dipping into the cold Pacific won't just be defense mechanisms.
My heart will appear to jolt awake and then dead repeatedly by the society I put myself in;
I will feel electricity running around in my veins, often sparking out of my eyes as the salty tears that trigger short circuits
The ones they say could be caused by the heat-
Indeed- but it's also the cold, the wind, rain and the snow
Words like unknown, unforeseen and anonymous manifesting and getting under my skin- make my jaws quiver and heart dip.

Often my gut nudges me to stand and to speak and to, for once, not fear an omen before I deliver a speech,
But when I speak, though my mouth moves to enunciate what I remembered from the paper,
And as I attempt to collect and reflect my confidence through my features,
My fingers tremble as I try to fit them into my fists behind my back-
These legs shiver behind the pedestal, hidden under slacks.
For people think these mere trifles shouldn't ******* the silhouette that I bear,
Fear of the unknown? Don't be scared, scared!
My nerve ends nervously make my fingers dance as I attempt to provide them a temporary occupation-
'Cross your fingers, close your fists,
Pretend to text, you're better than this.'

So dear me, oh dear me I am sorry-
I am sorry for constantly holding you back;
Sorry for all the chances I did not let you take, all because
I sometimes tend to diverge my faults out as through a prism,
And have always been someone who can never jeopardize her pursuit for perfection.

Sorry, for the seeds of my anxiety have given birth to the roots of my skepticism-
For I paint doubt over every pretty scenery you etch in my mind,
My inhibitions and myself, thinking things over, rewind, rewind.

If I were Rapunzel my anxiety would be the tower that holds me encapsulated- a hostage;
With no demands whatsoever, only a plain, ruthless, endless need to cause damage.

I'm banking on the fact
that we aren't really lost.
I'm waiting for the signs
to pull us from the dark.
We can return to our shack
that's buried by the trees.
Drink all night
until we're rolling through the leafs.

Anything,

for a second alone with you

my world exists inside your hands.

I feel every star collide.

as both our eyes expand.

The heat is on our skin
the chills are in our bones.
You my dear are a wanderer
but you my dear are home.

Hearts are
Wild creatures,
That's why our ribs
Are  cages

Miss the sun,
wait for the night.
The Swallow has gone,
But there's the Kite.

Leave it behind,
welcome a new time.
Time to let go,
Time to fly.

Nights are just as lovely,
Days have made you blind.
Surrender to what is,
And see how you shine.

I'm a thousand years old.
It goes on and on.
Never ends.

Reality pushing itself upon me,
Trying not to cut myself.

The measuring tape isn't long enough,
The noose will snap.

It's not surprising,
I can't carry my weight either.

Red nose. Swollen eyes. White face.
I could go on and on,
But breathing gets difficult.

Shouldn't it stop after a while?
The pain? No, the breathing.

When you stare at a light in a dark room
Everything else in the room seems to disappear.
Maybe this explains why every time I look at you
The world around me seems to disappear.