She's just a reflection of pain.
Shattered images cast illusions of a broken woman.
Riddled clues screens those who are genuinely intrigue.
The grand inquisitor acts as a gardener
Sorting out the weeds.
It's so confusingly puzzling to me.
I can't put together how I could expected loyalty, from someone who lies to them self. Unfortunately it's just reality.

when i looked at what i had been writing
i came to the realization that
i had been trying, so desperately
to mask my insecurities and trials
with sweet poetry and prose

why do i still try to hide
what i feel, on this anonymous poetry account

this hiding has gone far beyond just the reaches of the internet
it has pervaded into each sector of my life

i. i hide from myself

i fool myself with forced optimism
and the mentality that
my wounds are nothing but shallow scratches
that, if it can't be healed with time, then
it can be healed with adjustment and moving on

ii. i hide from others

i pretend, that they, too are fooled
by my obvious act
as i push everyone away
with lies of
"i'm fine" and "i'm okay"

why can't i come out of hiding

I like writing about you
It comes so easy and natural
Like the grass that grows
The moon that shines
Or the happy thoughts
when your on my mind
It is effortless and enjoyable
Like enjoying the wind on my skin
The sun on my back
And you in my eyes

As much as I want to talk to you I won't,
I know you are scared to repeat that same old history again and its okay I'll wait.

I need a friend,
So do you,
But will you let me in.

I hope you do,
Or else I'll just wait outside your doors hoping there will come a day when you and I will sit together and talk what we always wanted to.