Six small shapes line
The inside of my heart shaped
Abyss.
I would call it an *****
But
My twisted view and
Clockwise soul led me in
The wrong direction
Towards darkness that knows
Nothing besides
Theft.
People tell me to
Let it go
As if it was my choice.
As if I tug at my skin
Like bait.
In reality
I tug at my skin
Afraid to feel it resting
On my bones.
This body was not my own
For three years,
I found my life
Laying flat, the
Thin line between
How do you dos, and you
Are better off not knowing me.
Somewhere on the sidelines of
Oregon
My lungs were found in salt.
My body was not my own
For long nights setting fire to the sky,
Before I could not breathe.
There was
Too much smoke.
But I finally have the room to inhale.
I finally have the will to take up space.
And I will not let myself fall apart.

Fire burns in your mind
You complain about the heat.
I would carry buckets of water
For thousands of miles,
Pray for storms
Just to bring you a cool
Breeze.
I would quiet the burns
Playing your favorite song
Every night.
But time and time again
I burned at the price of others.
I would care for you
But I sit in ruins.
My arms are ash not
Strong enough to lift.
My voice is smoke.
My piano teeth are bent and broken.
No melodies will come from my embers
But at least I can appreciate the warmth.

I slept in my pants last night.
Tears stained on my pillow like
The blood
On my hands.
I swept the mess of my life into your dustpan,
And wonder how many pieces may fall behind me.
I will never be able to clean them up,
If I am too afraid to look back.

I fell asleep in my shame,
Forgetting to take it to your dry cleaner.
You would wash out my skin and hang my soul to dry.
Carve your new colors into my palms.
Paint me new irises and maybe
I will fall asleep under new skys

I have always battled
My beliefs.
Strangling them down as if they
Exist.
Pulling them from their roots hoping to look to my fingers
And see flowers,
But I look down,
And see my own empty eyes in the palms of my hands.

I feel ashamed when faced with grief.
Ashamed I can't see the
Light that they everyone else sees,
She
Is in a better place now.
I sit crying in the back rows,
To afraid to sit by someone
Who may comfort me.
I sit far enough away to cradle
My disbelief
As it crawls down my face.

Thinking I was found
In your touch, only
To find I am still lost
In my own presence.

I was right in thinking
you needed to be loved
I was wrong in thinking
mine was enough

They preach
Don't be a sheep,
But ******* it
This wool is warm.