i know you can see me,
i am shaking,
shivering, wincing and twitching
it doesn't look good by any means

but i know you can see me,
breathing,
breathing, grounding, focusing
while it doesn't look good, would you please believe me

i am handling it
the best i can
i promise, i am handling it

i.
cup your hand underneath a flower, delicate
rest your hand, fingers splayed around on a neck, on a chest,
on a check

ii.
a feeling so strong in your chest it might spill over,
has always meant danger, anger, control
please push
down avoid
this is something new something
soft so much of something soft

iii.
this softness is often terrifying in its unfamiliarity

i.
when i read your words about you holding me,
me holding you,
i see them in the shape of your head on my chest, your hands
on my heart and my hands
in your hair, around your wrists, on the back of your neck my face
in your hair these words
smell like your shampoo
feel like your short soft hair feel like your fingertips
on my collarbone your palm on my shirt
feel like us together, feel like us safe

ii.
of course,
this is about you
my good

i.
no one gets it, right? no one understands, they don't know what they're talking about

ii.
the warnings, the pamphlets, the list of red flags

iii.
they may seem familiar but it's just not like that, right?

iv.
of course not

i am dis.sociat.ing
bit by bit.
bug. stuck.
glitchy.
i will never love.
loveloveluvl0vel00v1.
i am coded to grow old alone.

I.
it's black and white it's up and down its either or its back and forth

II.
its, no, I'm okay with that, no, I'll scream if you do that, no, that part I like, no, not there, not that direction and it's, too much

III.
it's easier to say no to all than to give everyone your story
when you tell them where the land mines are,
when you tell them where they can't go
and what they can't say
they will want to know why
and why is it okay to do this and not that?
why is it okay if you're in control but too tight a grip on your leg and you'll fall apart?
why is it such a fine line?

IV.
and you have no way to tell them that the line tends to deviate, that some days you have felt safe enough in your body even enough to think that maybe you don't have to be alone but most days you feel so alone in your body and it feels so familiarly sick that you can't even begin to comprehend where it is okay to be touched and what is okay to say and it is easier to say

V.
no

VI.
why wasn't it that easy the first time around?

I.
all I ever wanted was to not be a regret

II.
you told me I was your favorite mistake like I should be thankful

III.
if you are telling me the truth,
know this;

IV.
no, you may not tell me you regret kissing me,
in the same breath that you ask me to stay

maybe it's the staccato of your fingers drumming on my knuckles maybe it's the way you tell me it's what you want too
maybe it's how a palm is an offering or a suggestion always answered in kind
maybe it's how your voice gets as soft as your hands when you hold both of mine
maybe it's when you laugh at me for reaching for your hand before doing the same
maybe that's why it's so safe