Today I looked upon my world
and saw
That I cannot know anything about myself
until I have shared it

I fear quiet, slinking apathy
that must be addressed in cold agony
I fear glaring flaws
cut out with flashing scissors
I fear lies will slip in
like pills into a drink
Poisons thrown back into a bright throat
From faces of any shape or color
The sharper the chin
The deeper the tears
But most of all I fear I’ll close myself in self-defense
and others in that process

Hearts aren’t heart shaped
So I carved a hole in my heart shaped like you

Power is the trait
I most desire in a mate
To wield an affectation
exude an attitude of skill
To spike imagination
and a joyous sense of will
But I ponder this and pause . . .
For once again I’ve found myself desiring
what I long to carve across my chest
Seeking power in my hands

in our desire to accept the raw and deepness of a soul
we often forget our little, daily actions pave the path to those treasures

and I’m done pretending
that physical pain is any less devastating
than emotional pain
Honestly, they’re the same