I love you
Your gentle touch
Your nervous giggle
You caring smile

I love you
But I'm not in love

My hand clenches around my heart
Constricting its beating
Forcing it to step in time to the wrong dance

I'm slicing m own soul apart with this quandary
But the knife is so sharp I hardly notice it
I only think of your face
What you will do when I tell you

I love you
But I'm not in love

The hurt pouring from your eyes
Like blood from a wound
Not windows, but floodgates to the soul unable to close

As your eyes furrow
And mouth turns, open in surprise
Glasses a shield for me
Or you, I can't tell

I love you
But I'm not in love

What was it like to love him ? Asked Gratitude.
It was like being exhumed, I answered. And
brought to life in a flash of brilliance.

What was it like to be loved in return ? Asked Joy.
It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I
replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence.

What was it like to lose him ? Asked Sorrow.
There was a long pause before I responded :

It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to
me—said all at once.
-Lang Leav

I think too much.

Maybe that's the wrong way of putting it.
I don't think—thoughts ravage me.
They assault me with battering rams
in daylight, and at night they slip into my mind
As spiders, spinning webs through my consciousness
Weaving me awake.

They follow me like ghosts
Whispering in my ears, demanding an audience.
I hold my breath as I walk through hallways,
Afraid of breathing in thoughts I cannot contain.

I attempt to capture my thoughts,
to hold them in a poetic prison.
Pen to paper
and all my insecurities and doubts come rushing out
Like drowning in reverse.

I can breathe.

My what an expensive brand of bruise you wear!
It looks so real, like Fell Down the Stairs by House Wife
But surely not, none of us could afford it on our budget
It's genuine? I don't believe you.

Such an exquisite range of shades you have on,
And matching that dress so well!
Surely that's not a coordinating colour of cut lip too?
A gift from your partner? I don't believe you.

She was risky, she made me feel exhilarated
He paid me attention, I felt liked
He liked me for my weirdness, when I got overexcited
He made me feel safe. In his arms the world could not reach me

She made me feel all these things and more.
She smiles, my breath quickens.
She remembers what I like, I know I am interesting.
We get excited together, laughing and jumping and clapping, wide-eyed.

When I hold her in my arms, I know she is safe and I am too, both saviour and saved.
I hold her hand and never want to let go- the silent confidence makes me beam from ear to ear.
"I've got you" It says, "and you've got me."

How can restriction be so freeing?
Constricted in nylon compression
Freedom in mind
Shallow breaths
But filled with smiles
With a skip in my step