I am very good at deciphering certain things about me
In fact
Most all my poems somehow turn out to be lists of what I am not and why you shouldn't date me
I am just now finding out that it's not the best way to seem inviting
Or welcoming
I have been wondering what would happen
If I were to pour myself out
Empty every last part of me
And then swallow the remnants
What would happen
If I were to leave myself an open door
A no questions asked scenario
Just accept things as they are
I am used to picking apart my insecurities
Used to throwing them at any pair of feet that walk towards me
But humans are not brooms
Are not there to sweep up my petals of doubt
To clean up the mess I've made so many times before
It gets old after a while
And nobody wants to date the girl
Who ***** her ghosts every night
Who still sleeps with depression on the side
I have purposefully highlighted every demon of mine
Made a point to wear them vacantly on my smile
My weakness is often mistaken for confidence
So I embrace it
Thinking maybe if I come right out and say it
The sharp reality won't cut my lip on the exit
My mouth is nothing but an abundance of canker sores
Formed from every time I've had to bite my tongue
To keep my words from falling out
My intention
Was to write something
That is not just another eulogy
For my inability to be vulnerable
But like most everything that leaves my hands
It is unpredictable
And not expecting return.