When I was a child, I was bulletproof.
My scabbed wounds and sticks-and-stones attitude
shielded me better
than my mother ever could.

The scar tissue of my scraped knees and raw fingertips
built up
more protection
than I needed.

Alas, that was childhood.
I didn't want to be protected.

Now I am weak.

I am fragile and pale
I can see my pulsing
sickly blue veins
and feel my out of time
and off-beat heart
throbbing in pain.

Now I am unprotected.
Now I'd give anything for a bulletproof vest.

I left my place
An empty throne
On a mountain of love.

And you, dear
So aptly named
Deserve it so much more than I.

You'll make much better
A mother and wife
Than I could have ever.

i got greedy.

so i started talking to you again.

i'm not entirely sure
if your electronic presence

the glow of your name on my screen

has made me feel
better
or worse.

I dreamt of you again last night.
Your smile took me back in time to the enchanted lands.

Awake in the forest,
With eyes sewn shut.

I'll never forget the freedom you gave me
And forced me to feel.

Swimming through shark-infested waters
I clung to the hope that I could be happy.

But god has his ways.
And in the garden of love I had gotten lost in,
I found monsters.

They ripped me away from you
From our provinces.

Now our memories, once beloved
Are feral, rabid ghosts.

Life is short.  It is fast and unforgiving.  
And in the time that we are given
- the time we are allotted to spend here on this planet -
we don't ask nearly enough questions.

No, not "who where why when how".

Questions that matter.

Will it rain tomorrow?
What's your name?
The first two things I said to your face.

We were younger then, and I didn't know that in a month's time
I would be asking you much more important things.

Like your favourite colour.
The songs that lift your spirits.
If I could be someone, anyone, to you.

And now.
We are where we are.
You have become to much more to me than I had ever dreamed,
and, as you had told me, time and time again, I to you.

Life is short, so I want you to know that I love you.
I love you more than "I love you" could ever say.

Life is fast, and I want to make these memories
-however virtual and electronic they may be -
last.

And life, above all, is unforgiving.
I will never be able to tell you what I want you to know.

I'm not so sure anymore that I will do anything worthwhile with the time I am given.
After all...
What kind of time would I be spending without you?

I write too many "I ams"
I I I
me me me
and yet, I'm trying to talk about you.
The way you make me feel when I am all alone
wrapped in blankets and thoughts
sometimes music, sometimes not
mostly your prerecorded thoughts on repeat before I go to sleep.

And look at me now.
Trying to write pretty "poetry"
to appease the goddess in my mind.
your face and your hair are one in her
one in the same in my happiness and pain.

I want to sing to you every night
and scream your sorrows away
oh my god, how I would fight for you
but my tears are pointless today.
I'm not really your type.

So.
What's my narcissistic word count for this one?
How selfish am I in longing
for the gold I could spin from your hair
and like a dragon I would hoard you
my gem, my crown jewel
and selfishly keep you away.

I poke hole after hole in myself
Not for pain,
Not for another space to be empty,
But to fill them with gems and metal and ink
And become my vision of beauty.

I want to be the pretty girl
That people scoff at on the street.
I want to be the beautiful girl
That is not-quite-naked between the sheets.

So give me a gun and a needle
And I will stick myself through and through
"Don't let words or thought define you,"
I won't.
Because I'm gonna be beautiful too.