I found my self worth buried deep
underneath the core of the problem.
Sulking and wilting in the garden
of his spoken words.
Cruel and unkind surrounding every colour
and every path,
Dripping from every petal and every leaf
to the last
placement of where I no longer seek to be.

I found validation from myself,
Not within the stares from you or
the apparent love from him.
His words are still plastered into my brain
and my insecurity is still worse off,
But I found peace and contentment.
I found optimism and care,
Radiated through my surroundings.

I found that I deserved more than to be
cheated and hurt,
Emotionally distraught to humiliation and
bleeding in bedding.
Suffocation from the sheets and I couldn't sleep.
Now I've found acceptance.
And I can move on.

                                    — validation.

How it is possible for only the sound
of your voice to send me from
sorrowful and stressed to a calming sea,
I'm not entirely sure.
Perhaps it's the softness in which you speak,
Like the gentle breeze weaving through
the sound of the waves
Or the way you're equally as nervous.
I don't know,
But what I do know is that my calming
influence said to be given to you,
Is also bestowed from you upon me.

      — admiration.

I'm afraid that, at one point or another, I'm
going to force myself to stop feeling this
way about you,
As I have done many times before with
others.
It correlates to the feeling of rejection and
hurt,
Enabling me to run away from my own
fears with my cowardice anxiety by my
side,
Gripping tightly to my hand and furthering
away from you.

                                              Whilst there, at this new home and safety
                                                          ­                                               of mine,
                                          A woman asked me of why I'd run. Why I'd
                                                        used up energy to escape a lovingly
                                                        ­                                   positive feeling.
                                                        ­      And created it to be a bad thing.
                                             I explained to her my past, and how it has
                                                          mad­e me fearful of a future in that
                                                            ­                                             regards.
                                                        ­                  She showed me a garden,
                                                        C­olours strikingly bright to the eye,
                                                            ­   Buzzes coming from the insect's
                                                        ­                                            excitement
          ­                                And I'd noticed, within a large group of red
                                                             ­              roses, there laid a yellow
                                                          ­                  Leant against a red rose.
                                                           ­             I asked her, why only one?
                                                      And why within the midst of all red?
                                              She told me she'd painted it, for whatever
                                              reason she wasn't sure, and she was quite
                                                   certain it was slowly killing the flower.
                                        She asked me which I had noticed first, and I
                                               told her the yellow, to which she replied:
                                                   "Out of a large group of red, your eyes
                                                            ­  focused on the yellow. Out of all
                                             negatives, my dear, you should only focus
                                                           ­                              on the positives."
                               "Of course," she added. "Only in these situations."

As cliché as it sounds,
You are consuming my dreams.
And as much as I hate it,
And I wish for you to leave my mind,
I can't really do much else about it other than
accept it and deal with it.

It is my subconscious mind that is allowing
you in,
Letting you create your home in there
and place posters up on the walls of my
brain which you are making your living space.

I dreamt sorrow of you,
I have dreamt contempt
And I've dreamt of love.
All of which had me ****** up in the
morning and throughout the days
afterwards.

And part of me wonders if it's the same for
you,
And if not then how you do it.
How you're able to keep me out of your
mind because I wish to know answers.
I just don't want you occupying my brain
space any longer,
I'm unable to think of anything without
your name or being having an involvement.
I don't like the way that this feels.
I thought I would but I don't.
I'm sick of false pretense in the things I
want to be real.

“You’ve made me feel like ****, again,” I say
to myself mentally,
Aiming it more so towards my anxiety
Yet again.
Another snooping situation, mixed into the
incapability of walking away.

I can’t leave things alone.
My mind wishes to know every ounce of
detail but I, personally, don’t really care.
I want to write, sleep and live freely
without a form of worry blanketing me and
stopping me from breathing in deeply to
calm down.

However I let it do what it pleases,
regardless of whether I’m stuck with a
depressed feeling and sorrowful tune
surrounding me.
I tell myself, “You just have to ride through
it.” And for the first time, it’s easy,
But after that it becomes tiresome and
boring and all you want is for the feeling
to go away.
I am the only person who can make it go
away, but I can’t.
I hold onto it unintentionally, as if a part of
me will disintegrate if I let go.
And so we fall into a never ending cycle of
my anxiety,
Where I ask myself continuously “When will
it end?”
And my mind tells me it’s not entirely sure
but that I should be grateful for what it’s
giving me.
That it’s giving me safety and
cautiousness, helping me not to be
percieved as too naive.
But I don’t care for that much anymore.

So instead of ridding of my anxiety,
I’m always ridding of those who
unintentionally and unawarely have
created it for me.
It’s easier to be rid of you physically than
of something within my own mind.

I felt like we’d already met,
When we met for the first time
And from that moment, my brain refused to let go of you.
It holds tightly onto every memory and every thought,
Regardless of whether I want it to or not.
It’s as if my brain and my heart have discussed that I am no longer part of their decision,
And yet again I am left out of it all.

I remember vividly the time I met you for the fourth,
Our eyes met each other from a distance and as you passed,
Time slowed down with our eyes still speaking to one another.
Desperately longing for some form of an answer to a question that was never asked.

I am terrified of it all,
Terrified that I’ll bury myself too deep into this pit that I won’t be able to climb out myself.
Terrified that my naivety will eat me alive and my thoughts will gradually be consumed by nothing but you.
I don’t see it as loving or romantic,
I can’t help but see it in such a dark light because what’s the appeal in not being able to concentrate on anything but the way your eyes seem to melt their way into mine when you look at me.
Yet, at the same time, I am too tired to fight any of it - I have been told not to, but to embrace it and find peace with it.
That scares me most,
That I’ll become so used to it.
I just wish to be immune.