I fear closeness.
I fear close knit and tongue tied
I fear you and I.
these days I think myself
into a coma more often times
than I am actually awake.
The thought of mere interaction
shakes me to the core
and I don't want to find myself anymore
because I'm terrified of who exactly I'll meet.

I am hanging at the edge of your lips again-
realizing what it is I have made you feel
which is less than nothing, but also everything
which is eggshells and self-preservation
and a mindset that is filtered when I am around.
I would like to know you too-
but I am afraid we will not connect
as good as we did once.
I often find myself missing where we were
even if it was disoriented, at least it had a name.

Often I fear I am too much-
too dysfunctional, too erratic
to ever find love the way I would like.
Looking into the mirror
the reflection I see reminds me I am something.
Here. Present.
That if I try hard enough I can get to where I need to be
and the sun is shining and my mind is free again.
Until the moment comes to where I am low
and I try to look at myself in the mirror
tell myself I am something- Here. Present.
but all I seem to see are the tears
and the smeared makeup-
all I seem to see
is the past that keeps repeating in my mind
the memories that my retinas like to replay.
I guess I'm not over it.

I would like to marry someday-
have kids and show them love,
show them happiness can exist
and that marriage isn't a death sentence
that love is not just a word
that it is everything.
But I find myself sitting here
on the bathroom floor
waiting for the shower water to warm
just the way I like it
and I'm afraid that's how my life will always be
waiting for things to be consistent
and manageable
just the way I like them.

But then I feel the water and it's cold-
someone used up all the hot water again
or maybe there's no propane.
Either way I'm cold,
either way I'm cold.