Years of knowing I wasn’t wanted
Have poisoned the tenderest
Portions of my soul.

Butterflies have become moths
And the music is always out of tune.

The sunset is an ugly smear
And sunrise holds no promise.

Flowers do not yield perfume
And all the birds are Ravens.

Words that used to comfort me
Now echo back in hateful tones

I tell myself there is a light
And try hard to believe it.

But it’s illusive and it fades
Each time I think I see it.

Wanting to be wanted
Turns out to be a foolish game.

How can anybody want me
When I don’t even want myself.
ljm

I’ve had black eyes and bruises
Broken bones and ****** noses
I’ve dealt with pain
I’ve fallen and been sprained
I’ve had needles ***** my skin
And cut my fingers on jagged rims
But none of those compare
To falling into someone’s snare
And hoping you’ll be loved
Only to find
You were wasting your time

You have never been definite.
Your infinite definitions, each
contradicting their precedent.

A dull, double-edged sword,
unsharpened, unsheathed,
guided through my chest
by naïve empathy.

You are perfection
with intrinsic flaws--
I drown in the furious rapids
of your teary waterfalls.

I could venture on my own,
avoid you altogether,
but risk losing the essence
that keeps my soul tethered.

If you are love, you are an empty prison.
Empty cells,
empty halls,
plain white walls, motives hidden.

So what am I feeling?
Is this pain or affection
knocking loudly on my conscience
and interrupting my healing?