scared is not
a good enough
word for how
i'm feeling

peeking through
a crack in the
curtain of who
i am as a person

(like a dumb
teenage boy
hoping to see
some girl's skin)

and being
surprised to find
the lights on and
no one home

(not that i should
find that surprising
when i haven't seen
myself around town)

like i moved onto
the back porch of
a stranger and never
went back home

(sleeping in the weather
and knowing that i've
chosen to be homeless
in pursuit of a feeling)

trapped in a
small town
by small mentalities
of who i should be

getting drunk and
laid while wishing
i was burning trash
alone in the woods

(the long
and short
of it is
i lost myself
or that i never really
had myself at all)

we hold onto
things and places
people and faces
that feel like home
even if we don't love them
even if they don't love us
because we want security
while growing up

(can't shake the memories
from dresses hanging
in the backs of closets
clinging like that knockoff
pink perfume that took
last shreds of innocence)

and i'm scared
i'm ******* scared
of being
okay

because i've  hung
onto my sadness
like i hung onto
an old hoodie

(walked hand in
hand with darkness
the only thing i've
always had to fall on)

and now i'm standing
tapping on the window
trying to figure out if
the person i'm looking
for is hiding behind the
stacked moving boxes
if they were ever here
in the first place

i don't see her
but i have to find her
and i can't escape
i can only drag
myself up with a
questionable safety harness
determination and
broken fingernails

**this is ativan up
not ativan out