The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

Writing his name feels like a panic attack.

I was fifteen. Young kid, lonely.
All I wanted was to be wanted,
And he wanted me.

He was eighteen. Average man,
He already knew me.
I went to his house and he gave me a hickey.

Little red mark on my neck, pretty pink,
On my skin it stayed, as I leaned over the sink.
Last night's dinner was going to come up.

The bra I wore to his house,
I've only worn it once since then.
Wearing it feels like putting his hands on me.

The jeans I wore to his house,
I lost them and decided not to look.
They were a reminder of the piece of me he took.

Everything we did, I said "yes" to.
He was the first guy to touch my chest,
I had to force my body to be mine again.

All I wanted was to be wanted,
And he wanted me.
Traumatized so beautifully.

Boy down the street.
All I wanted was to be wanted,
And he wanted me.

I just wanted to be wanted.
And he wanted my body.
Writing his name feels like a panic attack.

I want to know what it's like to be satisfied with somebody

to wake up in the morning next to someone who thinks I'm beautiful and be satisfied with me

I don't remember ever being satisfied with somebody, not properly.

being happy

old sentiment for kings and queens

that seemed steady in my heart

and then left me with a loss of trust

and a ring I threw in the lake whose attitudes I have learned to impart

yearning for satisfaction begs reaction of interaction and love and

old sentiment for kings

I can't write this with words softened.
You're up and down,
In a  Myriad of ways.
You see my heart, its doors opened.
You know me too well.
It's killing me, just a bit.
I wonder if you're what they cautioned.
Difficult to handle,
But you give me such a buzz.
You have too many pieces, horizons broadened,
But still, I still come along with you.
In a myriad of ways.