"Why are you looking at me like that?"
He asks
It's because I want to hug him and tell him he's so so lovable
And that he is a boy
But I can't

"I'm happy you're writing again, but I'm sad for you"
I say
I want to cry for him
Take all the hurt
And I know that's crazy
Either way I can't
And I won't

The bad side of caring so much I suppose

You are the sun,
I am your mirror.
I reflect your light
back to you.

Your rays touch me -
mine never reaches you.

I'm either

Grounded
Or burried
Or floating

And the world is either

Unmoving
Or too fast
Or too slow

It either
Ignores
Suffocates
Or points its finger

And I feel either

Nothing
Or too much
Or numb

Doctors see more blood
in sterile rooms
than soldiers do
on broken land.

Spring arrived
And I was so heavily jaded that I couldn't hear
the birds' song

Half alive I would delay my exhale by design
As if to delay time, stop something
While my reaction to beauty was being the reverse
From what it's like for most

But they didn't have to be selective as to what
they inhale

Some people, you know, have died from this

I just liked being around
Even if it meant being on edge
Being constantly attacked by my own cells

"Why couldn't you just be like everyone else?"

But allergic to life
And offended by joy
Was the hand you've been dealt