I deem no one worthy
To behold the brilliance of your eyes
Or intertwine their fingers with yours
Or hear a word uttered by your mouth.

Not even me.

I imagine it like a scene from a movie.
Where the girl throws herself against a wall of the shower
Tilting her face beneath the stream of water.
You can't tell if she's crying.
She scrubs her skin too hard
Turning herself an unpleasant shade of red.
She's trying to get clean.

Silly girl.

Your innards could use a good scrubbing.

Actions speak louder than words.
Actions hurt more too.
They leave bruises
And scabs.

My scabs don't heal
Because I never stop picking them.
Maybe that's why I stopped going to church.

I want forgiveness
But I don't deserve it.
So would I believe it was real
If I were to received it?

Or would I unintentionally sabotage
Your mercy,
Just to punish myself?

Would I spend the rest of my life
Trying to make up for my mistakes
In vain?

But I'm not Jesus.
So what do I expect my punishment to fix?
I don't save people.
I don't have a plan.
I don't provide a peace that surpasses understanding.

If I were Jesus, I'd give you your own constellation.
I'd give you the comfort you need.
I'd save you from me.

Words can't fix my misdeeds.
So I'll stop talking
And show you what I mean.
I'll be a better me.
I'd like if you stick around and see.

I did it.
Guilty.
Shame has a way of hollowing me out.
I showed you my scars and you said they were nothing,
but now they're consuming my heart.

There's lots I could say,
want to.
But my credibility is only as good as the rest of me,
which is not.

I said: "not all things that have been broken are bad"
but now I'm distraught.

I could play therapist and analyze myself:
daddy issues - check
trust issues - check
abandonment issues - check check
check.

I ****** up.
I don't want to find an excuse
that'll make you stay.
Maybe that's why I pushed you away.

I don't want you to leave,
but I care too much not to let you.
I wish I would have realized sooner
and gotten my priorities straight.
We could lie together
never touching
and that would be okay.

And you could **** all the girls
and go into gruesome detail.
As long as you still had your finger on my heart.

But you wouldn't do that.
Because you're not **** like the others
and that's why I picked you.
You're perfect.

I'm afraid I'm not anymore.

I never want to be you.
You're so miserable.
And I promised myself I wouldn't vent here
But then you said those things.

You push everyone away.
That's why you're alone.
You want everyone to be as miserable
as you are.

I still resent the fact
you never taught me how to ride a bike
or swim.

Maybe if you avoid things long enough
they'll disappear.
Like me.