I can't place my finger
On how you became so distant
And different
And difficult to tolerate.
I can't place my finger
In between the salt water trails
Down my cheeks because it won't
Stop them from flowing.
I can't place my finger
On how I precisely feel,
Or why I randomly cry,
Or why the stars make me feel so small every night.
I can't place my finger
On the moment when you became
A face in photos that I vaguely stare at
In attempts to remember who you are.
I can't place my finger
On why the sadness creeps up
And camps out in my chest,
And bangs pots and pans so I can't sleep.
I can't place a finger on your hand
When you're lonesome,
When you're tired;
I can't be there for you.
I can't place a finger
On the moment when I became the past.
I can't place a finger
On the moment you decided to let my words be the last ones spoken.
I can't place a **** finger
On my own valves and stop the blood
Pumping through my veins because if the pumping ceased,
So would these endless nights and thoughts.
Granted I can't place a finger
On why I'm so "damaged",
As you would say;
I'm not sure why I am perpetually in limbo between extremities.
I just can't place my finger
On why I even care so much;
I promise it's not because I miss us.
I'm quite fine without.
I can solely place my finger
Upon the fact that I'm out here
Blazing a trail on my own,
And I'm scared as hell I'll waver and trail down into the darkest parts of my being,
And just remain there, sleeping on the dark path that is carved out in my heart where only these thoughts resurrect themselves and lie down with me too, long enough for me to forget how to place my fingers into a fist and fight them off; I can't place a finger on why I'm fighting in the first place, why sometimes I place a finger to my face and there are streams of unplaced, uncalled for sadness and delusion.
It's probably too personal to be relatable, and I'm so tired of writing about sadness but it's been relevant and it always helps to write.
One second I'm fine, the next I'm wondering when being okay will come again. I'm trying to figure out how to fix this and be more okay than I am sad. I don't want to be this way, I just am. I've always been indecisive, I just didn't know my well-being and emotions could be too.
I'm tired of being that damaged girl that only writes sad poems and can't seems to be okay. I don't want people to pity or fix me.