I wish I wasn't so vulnerable,
so able to
fall
at the slightest of pushes,
like an autumn leaf is wrenched away
by the gentlest of winter winds.
You are an unmovable oak,
and you probably thought I was the same.
I've become very good at pretending.
You never meant to be the one to push me,
to leave me at the bottom of a pit
that I'm desperately trying to claw my way back out of.
My hands hurt.
Yet I saw your outstretched arms,
felt the nudge in my back the first time we met.
The smile sent me flying.
Even though I hate you for it,
hate you so hard rivers leave my eyes
I don't blame you.
I don't even really hate you.
I hate myself for being who I am.
A scared little girl who can't bare to look in the mirror,
can't bring herself to flutter her eyelids and shake her hair at you.
The smell of rejection lingers around my nostrils already.
I know your type.
I know you better than you know yourself
and
most of all,
I know nothing can ever happen.
I'm sorry for burdening us with this,
for tripping up
and falling down the rabbit hole.
So where's my Wonderland?
Your mouth reads Drink Me,
your heart reads Eat Me.
I'll eat till I'm full,
drink till I'm love drunk
but the table is bare.
Just like this pit.
I'll make a ladder from your oak,
and try to find a way out.
Just don't look me in the eyes.
Don't smile.
Don't be the winter wind.