Time to change who I am, again.
There has to be someone else with the crippling fear
or being known.

Unlovable?
At first I thought it was a label assigned to me
showing in the way I sit alone in crowds of people
laughing at jokes I don't find funny
and allowing myself to remain static.

Unlovable.
And then it was a challenge
a
'how can I make you like me today?'
'what do I need to do?'
Because of course it was all my fault.
That all others could find was fault in me.
No longer rigid static,
but yielding conformity
my personalities clashing
but crafted with artisan flair.

Unlovable!
A prideful statement.
Untouchable.
Bitterly, bitterly free
from all expectations
placed on me.
Singular.
Alone.
Strong in solidarity.
Perhaps not lovable to you;
but lovable to me.

I have never prayed as much or as hard,
then when I realized I might not believe in God.

I found a report that I wrote for you,
in 2018.
I don't know the grade it recieved.
Probably a good one- that's why you asked me.
But I know that if our friendship was like the paper,
somehow. Against all the odds,
The paper failed.
I hope you're doing well.
I'm going to let you go now.

Only empty bags fly
So the message here is to leave
everything, to sacrifice everything,
and sour.

We struck the match, and lit the sun on fire
and now we scream and run
as the clouds crash to Earth around our heads.

Heavy drinking for you,
no sleep for us-
to live in a house of,
empty hallways and crowded rooms
chronic pain and empty gains,
nothing made and nothing changed.
So much lost, so determined
to stay the
same.