Sit there and stare me down.
In your little world tear me to shreds.
I will be sitting here,
At two o'clock every Friday
So pull up a chair, make yourself at home,
My home, that will remain mine.
You will not win this time.
Isn't it just the worst
when anxiety rears her ugly head and
tears through your chest mercilessly,
Fully aware that it is getting harder and harder for your lungs to refill themselves,
harder and harder for your heart to just keep pumping ,
Harder and harder to get back up.
So a word of advice,
You should probably lie down,
No one will see you anyway
and the impact won't be as hard if you curl up in the corner and give up.
To let go or hold on?
I remeber when your fists would grip like a cobra, totally instinctively -
but I saw your grip loosen,
As if you're fighting your instincts instead of fighting to survive
Take the anxiety and the panic
that has diseased my body.
Then bring it to your cold heart,
craft it into a fine, elaborate sword,
Proceed to stab me in the back with the demons I thought you helped me fight off.
All that is left here are ruins and remnants of a once full nest.
Disguised in tightly wounded twigs,
and soft specks of moss,
But the nest was too full, it had always been too full.
Love me the way I love you and don't leave.
Embrace the butterfly heartbeats and the waves upon waves of raw emotion,
Let them pick you up and throw you against my rocks
Don't worry I've got you, you're safe with me and
I'm safe with you.
Another freak storm rips this small island apart,
a large boat with sun bleached black paint
lands on my chest. Again.
And now I'm drowning.
Wait, where's the boat?
Where did all this water come from?
I know how to swim, why am I not swimming?
maybe that's why my arms and legs
shake so **** violently;
trying to swim against an imaginary ocean.
Wait, it's imaginary?
How am I drowning if it's imaginary?
And why is this ugly vessel still crushing my frail ribs
if it isn't here?
I can't think, I can't stop thinking.
Please launch the life jacket towards me,
NO DON'T TOUCH ME PLEASE
I know you mean well,
But your touch in the middle of my own personal storm
makes me want to rip my forearm from my elbow.
The thunder muffles my apology,
watered down by tidal wave tears.
When will this be over?
When will the final wave of this tsunami pass?
Wait, I can see the beach.
I swear through my saturated eyes I can see the shore again.
I see the sand, it looks bright,
oh so much brighter
The storm is almost over now,
all the fires are now reduced
to smoke rising,
unfortunately it is trapped and cannot escape.
I can't wait to see you
and ask you about your day
as we sit on the sofa
Eventually I'll start to fall asleep
on your shoulder
(my favourite place
to fall asleep)
And you'll stay there,
long after your shoulder
has started to numb.
And I will wake up and
realise that in this moment
I have fallen deeper in love
And when you kiss my forehead,
as your eyelids soften,
I'll know you've fallen deeper too
I push and pull like a restless ocean
Unsure of where the shore is
But I'm sure of you
I am sure I will always love you
And I am sure I will learn to navigate.
You are not invited
to the party that is my body.
The house keys pointing through my knuckles have ripped through that invitation, it doesn't exist.
You are not welcome
inside my front door, over the threshold of my palace.
The light of the screen as my thumb hovers over the last 9 of the only phone number I can remember is your indicator that you are just not my type.
Do not bring your testosterone fueled ego, or your uncharming paws or your self righteousness to my party.
You are never going to be on my guest list.
— The End —