Even on a good day
my eyes gaze through a cloud.
I think the colors are vibrant
but it’s merely the shadows dimmed down.
The doubt has been sharpened
the frailty ready to pounce.
If a twig snaps outside my walls,
I am prepared to tear everything down.
When the book was shut
someone stuffed it inside the case.
Confirming my trickle of fear
and spelling out my mistakes.
I highlighted every typo
I revised all the drafts.
I thought I could fix the punctuation by clinging.
So I suffocated the past.
I cling like snow to eyelashes
frozen and unforgiving,
or shadows to a cavern
too ashamed to let the sun in.
I reach for him like starlight
blowing wishes on desperate pollen.
I drink in his compliments
and my existence relies on his attention.
I bind to my patterns
like a moth killing itself for light
And if feelings are divergent
well, I start a fight.
I ****** my flaws.
“We will protect you,”they whisper.
I resent their ignorant attempts.
Plastic wrap, holding broken glass together.
I cringe at the words “I love you."
I can’t look them in the eye.
It hurts to know they exist.
Love doesn’t need my consent to survive.
But frost wouldn’t pound on June’s door
demanding a second chance.
And mountains don't lose their mind
when the wind asks crumbling rocks to dance.
Look away, look down.
Squint hard enough and you’ll see the light.
But what worked just as well as grasping
was opening my eyes.
