if I stop to think about it,
look at the words I've written
and sit outside of them, I see
that girl, in a moment of clarity,
and I pity her.

this part of me that picks
up the pen and puts down
her thoughts of insecurity
isn't talking to the rest of me
and I wish she would, she
could use the company.

so alone. on my own,
I wouldn't last long but
I'm not, so why prepare
for the impossibility of
solitude when before me
is a multitude of nodding
heads, accepting me in all
my dread and saying yes
to my existence without pretense.

I listen. I hear what sounds
like whispered kisses and
chuckles at my jokes,
bespoke love packaged
just for me, because
they see me in my full glory
while I only glimpse the
shadow of that creature
when I step outside myself
and observe impartially
the nerve and audacity
I have had to continue living,

and I realize
I'm a marvel.

I want you to expect from me
greatness, loveliness, reject
from me the loser I know resides
in my depths, hides behind
excuses of tiredness, fire this
engine with the thrill of
anticipating excellence,
participating in my self-
annihilation of that little girl
who lost sometimes, who tried
for the joy of it, boy did
she fail, but she also had fun,
her sun has set, and risen
in her stead is this high achiever
who rarely tries, buys favor
with lies, savors the rare
moments of feeling special
and tears flesh from bone
the rest of the time trying
to expose herself to more light,
fighting the instinct to go
extinct at first sight of
being a ******* loser. shoes hurt
and waist aches from sculpting
my body to be high stakes,
steak me through the heart
I've become a vampire
leeching off of the validation
of others, salivation at the
thought of turning you on,
without consideration of my
own pleasure, measure me in
victories please, and don't deduct
all my last places, faces that
set in disappointment of my
false anointment, I'm not the
chosen one, I'm just becoming
the unhappiest version of myself,
a ******* of what could have been
would that I had let go of
being a constant one-woman show
that shocks and awes, causes
locks to unlatch and people to
patch me up with ribbons
and medals, if it's not blue or gold
I'm convinced you won't be sold
on me, and I'm constantly for sale,
frail and fettered as I am, I pale
at the idea that I'm too fat
or thin for you, so much so
I forget what I look like, what
I might be if I knew nobody could
see me, how I long for that
invisibility, an ability to
become a ghostly shape,
mostly vapor and smoke that
could choke the insults I've
heard along my way, why did they say
those things to me? can't they see
how fragile I am, not agile, I can't
dodge the bullets of snide remarks
shot my direction, sniped from afar
and bludgeoning me up close
begrudging acceptance from
those I love most, feeling as
much like a wound as the
untarnished truth, my varnish of
youth is fading, too, and soon I
won't have my age to fall
back on, I lack the small
support that keeps me standing and
I've got canes hidden in my coat
to keep me afloat,
to link this boat to the sky,
so I don't sink but don't get too high.

I smile at the bruises I've
given myself, knowing they
are evidence of a life lived
rashly and brutally, a full and
unapologetic purple speckles
my shins, my back, my behind,
and it's from dancing on the
floor of three different rooms,
a classroom, a club room, a
bedroom, and I do these
dances so well, the other
day I fell and recovered
and laughed and was
smothered with cries of
concern to which I learned
I'm so ******* resilient and
this body is brilliant at
taking a beating and
cheating death as it has from
my mind time and again

I don't believe you when you
say you were just asking
a question, no reason, tasking

me with an answer for your
nothing inquiry, cancerous
doubts form about your intent,

time spent wondering what
you meant but you said you
were just asking, well what

does that mean? unseen
motives lurk around every
corner of my mind, I'll find

your reason, interrogate
every suspect thought,
detect and untangle the knot

of lies in your absence of
motive, but you asked me,
didn't you? and when you say
for nothing, is that true?

I need help. I pick
at the dried, dark red
on my arm and I realize
it's from blueberries,
not blood, and I'm flooded
with realization, alarm, it
could easily have been
from self-harm not the
little pancakes I made
this morning, stakes
are high in this household
I might die but tenfold
more likely  I'll cry
as I make more
blueberry pancakes.
I need help.
My back aches on
the side that I grip her
tender body, my hip hiked,
my drink spiked, liken
me to moss on a tree I'm
pretty from a distance but
messy when touched and
probably just invasive,
pervasive is this thought that
I'm fraught with broken
pieces, spoken leases on my
affection, but I'm an infection
to be eradicated, erased,
replaced with a plastic
version of me that sees
only what needs to be done
and miraculously does so,
how though? I've never
learned the trick to
accomplishment, stick
around long enough and
my impoverished mindset
and slobbish nature will
bore you, too, tore down
among me are all the
trees I've rotted to the core,
but not more so than
myself. I need new seeds,
new roots, new leaves,
leave me now and imagine
me beautiful and strong,
wrongly assume I'll
heal and grow, show up
with the best intentions
and follow them through, too,
but I won't. I'm too
******* tired, I can't, I yelp.
Cast me into the fire,
reborn scant, I need help.

please forgive me, though
I don't know what I did, I'll
scour my brain and memories
for evidence of treacheries

I'll leave black and blue
marks, sifting through my
fingers at the words I've been
typing and withholding,

behold my repentance, I
will make a show of
what it is I do not know but
fully believe I did, please accept

my bid for attention again
as you once would, should
you go before my dance,
glance back as you leave,

at least, your beast wanted
to tangle with mine so
give it that little scrap
of meat, as we cannot