To be loved is to be stripped down to your core. Until the truth is exposed and you're an open book.
And then be accepted.
Not for the persona you created, or the fake meaningless words you use to impress, not the clothes you wear, the way you part your hair, or anything of the sort.
But to be accepted in your pure state of self truth.
That is love.

Sometimes they yell,

"WORTHLESS!"

And I listen,
Because

"Listening is the polite thing to do."

I used to see you,
On the green velvet chair.
You sat beside your ashes,
Legs crossed.

I was scared of you,
No matter how strong my love was,
It was drown out,
By the terror.

How ironic,
To write poetry
That speaks of
Love
As if it were a familiar friend.
I write the thoughts too large and complex to store in my head alone.
I have not yet found
'My person.'
But I write as if we have known each other forever.
Maybe,
In the end there is no one for me.
But until hope is lost,
I write about you.
A person that I haven't met.

My person.

Her perfect smile,
Shines brighter than his.
But he is what everyone expects I want.
He is what everyone expects I need.
But she is so beautiful,
She's everything I desire.
I wonder if she ever sees me
and
Thinks the same.

My stomach hurdles over these seemly Insignificant tasks.
With every attempted hop I stumble.
Something as simple as washing dishes feels insufferable.
The bubbles don't hug me as they did when I was smaller.
They mock me knowing that I cannot do something so simple.
Life is a river and I'm just a twig along for the treacherous ride.
I'm swept away.
My feet cannot provide me stability, they don't root themselves into the soil like everyone else does,
effortlessly.

"Become perfect."
My eyes are glazed over
Delicate glass tears blur my vision
"Yes,
I promise."

My emotions feel synthetic
Fake feelings from a fake persona that I crafted to please you
If only I could live for myself
But I'm acting in a play
One without an audience
So who am acting for?
In those moments alone where I wail Who am I doing this for?
Constantly reinventing myself
But why?
I wish I could be free of this theatre
I hunger for the curtains to close
For the blazing lights to dim
And to sense the silent applause
Die out.

The world is so beautiful,
Through eyes purified by love.
Who knew
That one person
Could wash away the brokenness of this cruel world.

You tell me I'm one thing,
But really you're just afraid that I'm something
Undefinable.
You believe everyone is one or the other,
But whats the beauty in that?
Maybe one day I'm
'They'
The next I'm
'She'
Then the day after I'm
'He'
Don't suppress me for being
Everything.
Nothing.
And
Me.

Relieve me from this label,
I cannot belong in this cramped space
That you decide I fit in
I don't understand why anyone would want to be confined
To just one thing.
You tell me I'm this,
Not that.
But why can't I be both?
Or neither?
Why conform?
Why conform when I feel so free just being
Me.

Though light persists to reach my eyes, I hereby reject this harsh reality. For it is easier to renounce something you cannot percieve.

I wish I had more time to think,
More time to cry with you,
Before you're gone.
But time is slippery as I try to grasp
The precious grains
Of my remaining hours with you.
I wish I could be strong for you,
But my sadness is uncontainable
and flows out of my wallowing blue wells for eyes.
You clutch my sweaty palms,
Desperately struggling to hold on to
This life you want to keep living.
But as I watch the sparkle dim in your eyes.
I know.
That it's a cruel world.