With the soft knocking
of your palm against my fingers,
the door into my heart,
I think not-so-carefully
about letting you in

And as I move to the threshold
I find the door already slightly ajar
so I reach out to touch you
and feel your heartbeat move through my veins

You don't touch back
but do not move from beneath my hands
and I know you are telling me
to take it slow
because my favorite thing to do
is run when I'm told to walk
and I always feel
as though I'm running out of time

I take a breath or two
and do not look at you for too long
in case you disappear
while I am too busy blinking

Sometimes I'll sit in a chair
or walk through a room
that you've also sat in
or walked through
just because the idea that
the ghost of your presence
is sharing a space with the reality of mine
sets me free and captivates me
all at the same time.

Cracking under pressure
Relapsing
Losing touch with reality
losing her
getting caught
losing control
being replaced
not being good enough
disappointing the people I love
not being accepted
rejection
Being forgotten
Growing old
Hurting the people I love
Breaking down
Going back
Being trapped *but I'm already trapped?

losing control of my own body
going crazy
being not good enough
hurting someone else
loneliness
dying in my sleep
that my parents actually hate me
going to hell
not living up to my own expectations
serving the wrong religion
not getting into college
losing parts of myself
becoming numb