If I were strong
I would say I'm not okay
But I am weak, so fine I stay
If I were to stare down into your face
I'd smash it in with my graceful words
Swords, knives, that's what your words feel like
I feel this ache in the space between our sour meetings
Do not touch, so I won't touch
See no evil, so I look away from you
I'm weighted down by the emotions that lay heavy within me
I carry them like shacked round my ankles
I carry them in spaces between my teeth and tongue
They fall out when the pressure is too much
It all spills out, soiling the sacred ground
Burying the good news which surrounds me
I have this ache in my chest, where love used to be
It's dull and sad and it pains me
You smile, I cringe
You laugh, I cry
You gain control and I wither in my soul
In this ache, I want you to feel these knives and aches and pains and stops and starts and agony and woe
But no
You simply won't
It's this battle in my head and my chest and legs and if I stretch far enough, breathe deeply enough, and smile widely enough
I will no longer think of you
No God
No bad
Oblivious
In bliss