I write down my thoughts so they can breathe.
Don't mistake them for poetry.
I write to prove to myself that even on days I awake with my own blood on my hands.
I still am sane.
Or at least something similar to that.
Because if I was truly sane I would hate myself.
And I grew tired of that many months ago.

I want my arms and legs
To know what it's like
To turn into vine
To tangle with yours admist bedsheet and skin
Want my eyes
To know
How to open up
To something other than darkness
Forget getting lost in despair
Have them get lost in yours instead
Want my shoulders
To know how it feels
To twist into something
Other than knot
To melt into smooth
Into comfort
Want my hands
To know
What warmth feels like
When it doesn't burn
Want my body
To know
How to let down its guard
How to mold from armor into flesh
From metal into cells
Back into human
Want my body
To learn to its ability
To hold on
Without fear
Of letting go
And I
Want to be able
To hold on
Without the fear
Of being let go.

The most painful dreams
are the ones where I'm kissing you
because when I wake up, I know

I can't.

the last time i saw
the way you smile at me
i wept and i wept