Why am I crying?
Am I still denying?
He taught me to shut people out;
don't let them see - pent up your shout.
Now you're my light,
for the first night
in so long.
Teach me love.
Again.
Teach me love.

I shook her hand
the way you do with strangers,
before I even knew
you used to kiss it.
(I get jealous.
Please don't make me feel this.)
I smiled like her lips did,
politely,
before I even knew
you used to kiss them.
(I get jealous.
Please don't make me feel this.)
I froze when you told me about her,
casually and with a laugh,
and that was when I knew
you used to kiss her.
I get jealous.
Please don't make me feel this.

It doesn't take much.
She hasn't seen him for a year,
or ten months and a day
to be precise.
But when she entered the store
two minutes earlier
and hurried to the aisle with
hygiene items and perfumery,
she hadn't prepared for this.

It doesn't take much
and with something as small as
a single turn of her head
their eyes meet.
It's unfortunate, deplorable and
a wave of electric pain shoots through
her.
Before she has barely seen him see
her
she turns her stare back to the shelves
packed with makeup and shaving cream.
She need not see more of him to know
he looks the same.
That dark, tousled hair.
That soft look in his dark eyes.
That olive skin she used to caress.
That scorpion tattooed on his neck.
The electricity in her chest caused
her heart to jump up in her throat.
She feels sick.
Why does he always do this?
This isn't fair.
She hates him.
And his unexpected kiss last year
means ****
considering his girl and
their newborn daughter.
It's not fair
the way he influences her
when she can't even make him flinch
at the sight of her
the way she does.

It doesn't take much
and in the car
on her way home
she almost doesn't cry.

It is like this and
this is how it is.
The sun rises and
the sun sinks
but the moon is
consistent.
Don't fear
falling in love
because love is
forever.
Rather fear people
beacuse people
change.

Take a seat. Far in the back. Yeah. That's right. Right there. In that end of the wagon where you can barely see out through the rounded corner of the window next to the seat in front of you. Perfect. Be invisible. Only look at another human when you show your ticket. You bought the cheapest one you could find. You don't even have a seat. Not really. Someone could actually come and claim the one you're in. The risk of being forced away feels all too pressing. Any second now. You pause your music but keep your earpieces in as you listen for every sound. You steal glances of every by-passer in the corner of your eye. You check the clock on your phone. It's one minute past the departure time. The train should be moving by now...

Someone sits down next to you. You notice that it's a woman but you have no idea what she looks like because in this country we don't look at each other. We don't invade each other's personal space. Very important. Sharing is not always caring. We can seem cold but that's not our intent...

The train finally starts rolling. Four minutes late. You're hoping the woman next to you isn't bothered by the sound of your chewing gum. The sound of your teeth touching. The sound you make when you swallow. The sound of your breathing. The sound of your existance. You crossed your legs a few minutes ago. Right over left. Now your left foot has grown numb and your right leg is starting to ache too...

You didn't want to go. You didn't want to leave her. But real life called and forced you back to it. They lied to you when they sold the idea of adulthood as something... Yeah, what? What did we expect? Why were we itching to grow up so badly? For all the obligations? For expensive loans? For complicated papers to fill out, food to by and a roof to somehow keep over our heads? For leaving? For abandoning love and happiness in order to do what needs to be done?

I don't want to go. I don't want to leave her. But real life called and now this train is taking me back to it.

My girlfriend is a brunette.

Still feels weird calling her that.
Or him - sometimes she's a he and
that's fine.
She's not a gender to me.
She's a person.
She's my person.

But as I've said before,
carving it out with black on white;
I'm broken inside. I'm broken inside and
I don't know how to
feel.
Am I scared or am I
emotionless?
What is that sinking ache in my stomach?
Would my mom look at me
differently,
blow it out of proportion,
if she knew?

If she knew
I loved the girl next door when I was eight.
If she knew
I drew a picture of our wedding and hid it
because even when I was a kid
I felt like a disgusting disappointment.
If she knew
I kissed a girl in my class when I was in the fourth grade.
If she knew
I've been this person all this time.
I'm not different. I am the same. The same person I was three months ago. Before I had figured this out. Before I had figured me out.

My girlfriend is a brunette
and her sweet-tasting love is
all I've got
spinning around in my head
right now.
It's all I can think about. It's all, it's all I can think about.

My head's a mess. It is. I've been compromised. I've been broken. Like a puzzle where none of the pieces match. None fit. I've realized mine never will either. Because someone has taken away a few and thrown in new ones. And I'm not even sure if I can blaim anyone else but myself. It's chaos. A mess. So I've given up. The fight is over. Leave me alone to curl in the dark corners of my bed. Please don't make me open my eyes. I don't want to see. If you try you will only risk getting your own puzzle shattered. That's what I am now. That's what I've become. The very essence of "you only want what you can't have". Reluctantly indifferent. My heart is off and the switch has stuck. Not wanting to be alone, but deserving it. I'm a safety hazard. Dangerous. I can make you fall in love with me. And that's what I crave. But I have forgotten how to love in return. You think I give and give and give. When all I really try to do is take, take, take to fill myself and switch my heart back on. If it's even there anymore, in the sinus of my chest. I can't tell. I can't feel it. So leave me alone to curl in the dark corners of my bed. Please don't make me open my eyes. I don't want to see what I've done.

Have you ever thought about that small moment right after you wake up? That tiny space of time. The neutrality just before the memories and the feelings catch up with you. It is a relief and a break from everything. Until suddenly it hits you like a brick in the face and the nauseating hurt creeps back. That memory you so wish you could forget. That thing that happened that you wish you could undo somehow. And you know that you need to get up but you just... can't. So you close your eyes again - if you ever even mustered up the will to open them in the first place - and you turn over in the comforting heat of your protective bed. Falling back asleep so that you won't have to think thoughts and feel feelings.