For the longest time I thought that what we had was love
but it wasn't

Because I'm not supposed to feel scared and anxious when I miss a text or call
because I'm afraid that you'll lash out on me

It's not supposed to make me feel scared as if I have to tip toe around egg shells to make sure that I stay on your good mood

My friends aren't supposed to lose count on how many times I cried over you and yet they could count the times I was happy in one hand

And I was desperate to believe that you were the real you when you're happy
and that whenever you're mad it's actually my fault
because you say it is

When you say sorry I would always hang on to it like a man in the desert desperate for water,
because you always say that you didn't mean to (and because it was simply my fault)

Your anger started to become my punishments,
it became a way for me to burry myself with guilt and constantly blaming myself that I should've learned by now to know what you want
because ultimately it's my fault

The word "no" disappeared from my vocabulary because guilt and fear has eaten it away  

You used to ask me why I never get angry,
but being angry at you will just amplify your anger towards me

But it's been years now,
and I finally got my voice back,
It took me time to repair what was broken,
and get the missing pieces back together


It's been years now,
but I still get anxious when my phone rings

Sometimes i just want
to disappear
and sometimes I just want
to be seen.

and sometimes
I'm too caught up
in the in between.

The darkness disguised as light that is life creeps slowly into my spine like water dripping down a rain gutter after a storm. The reality in the air fills my lungs like twenty cigarettes all smoked in a dimly-lit stairwell on a Tuesday afternoon. I exhale as hard as I can, but the reality ceases to leave my being. It carves into my windpipe like a tiger's paw, ripping it into shreds as gravity pulls it back down.

I take a look at the calendar. A calm font reads December 24. I feel nothing. There is no cheer or happiness lingering in the supposedly cool December breeze. It used to fill the air with the scent of gingerbread and mint, but all there is now is the smell of rotting garbage, sun-dried ****, and the occasional stench of ****.

False smiles are painted across coffee shop windows. Bright lights that distract you from the world are wrapped around the trees. Mary gives birth to Jesus on each manger atop each building. It all still feels blank. The magic is gone. The false smiles frown at me. The luster of each bulb of each string of light has faded into a bland dullness. What lies atop the buildings are dead eyed statues.

Where has it all gone?

My mom was abused by her dad
My dad abused my mom
My sister was abused by her boyfriend.    
    
(and my dad)
My lover was abused by her ex
My closest friends abuse themselves
I keep  my distance

Your eyes are a hazel terrain
A land foreign like mars
With valleys and peaks
Of yellows, browns and greens
And hints of frozen oceans

Your eyes are the geography
Of somewhere hidden and forgotten
A place I am supposed to navigate
But love, I'm so bad with directions

So give me more time
I plead
You know I have a handicap
And I will keep on trying
To orient the map

I called my mom
To ask if this is normal
Ive been with you
For 3 months
And im sorta infatuated
And i like you more everyday
And i admire you
But i dont love you yet
Everyone says thats normal
But love has always hit me like a freight train
And im wondering how much time
I should spend waiting on the track
With you
What if it never comes
My mom just reexplained insanity and said
And how have those frieght train loves
Worked out for you?
Fair point