I looked like I would pounce
Over the sidewalks I bounce

Making sure to avoid the cracks
Like they were sticky, hot wax

Or a never ending gaping hole
that would eat my soul

Or, like the rhyme says,
Break my mother's back in a ways

I would come so close
but I froze

I kept jumping
and never touching

Why did I never hit the crack
if I knew it would never attack

Why do I still never touch the crack
Why do I always keep myself back

From just walking without fear
When I can just be clear?

My blank eyes stare
In bold frustration
At the white sheet
Sitting, calmly mocking me
On the plain brown table

The pen quivers in hand
My mussels shake with shame
But try as I might
My ideas are insanely sane

No bursting fits of passion
Or inspiring metaphors
Only a page covered in splatters
From my ink of internal wars

A block of metal in my mind
A chain of iron on my hand
Glossy mirrors on my eyes
Spiking needles in my thighs

Calling for me to get up
To leave this terrible attempt
But when a poets mind is blank
Like mine
About blankness will they find a rhyme

I am dead weight
to everyone around me.

Like coal,
I was a sizzling and crackling inferno,
until the only thing left
was a clump of
Burnt.
Used.
Lifeless.
Coal.

I burden other people
leaving marks
on those
I've barely touched.

I am everyone's coal.
The baggage everyone carries.
The trash thrown away.
The item disregarded, not worthy of living.
Not even given a chance to make a name of itself.
Burnt.
Used.
Lifeless.
Coal.

Recently,
I posted a picture
of my bare feet
walking in the rain
with the hashtag
numb.

The thing is that the picture got a few likes
but no one knew what the real message was
hidden behind my bare feet.

Home
has made me numb
to sadness,
the police,
true care
and generosity,
creating the facade that
blocks me from the world.

Boarding school
has made me numb
to grades,
fear,
anxiety,
slowly stacking the bricks
to complete my facade.

I would like to say
that something broke my facade
or took down some bricks,
but it only continues to build
so I end this poem in hope
that the weight off my chest
lifts at some point.
That the connections I lose to my facade
find their way back together.
That the relationships that drift away
can be replaced.
That the self doubt and self hatred
can be eliminated.
That the need to build a complete facade
has ceased.
But for now, I am stuck
in a constant
numbness.

Why does love always have to be so romantic?
Why can't we tell someone we love them, without the fear of it "coming out the wrong way."
So I'll just say it:

I'm in love with you.
I'm in love with the way you make me feel welcome.
I'm in love with the passion you have for beautiful things.
I'm in love with your gentle spirit.
I'm in love with the way you make me want to be a better person.

I've found someone I need in my life. Now I just wish I could do the same for them.

Lathered in Varnish
and coated in stain
the fades are all gone
without any blame

Thirst quenched with
the deep red wine
and stomach filled
with the taste of rye

I'll go through wear
and tear as I walk this Earth
until the next date
of my soul's rebirth

Because the world is sandpaper
stripping away
and my soul needs varnishing
to cover my shame