Dear poet..
Ever notice how the only way you can understand your emotions is by writing them down?
Or is it just me?

Before I write...
My mind is a jumbled up mess... a whole jigsaw puzzle.
But once that ink touches the paper
The confusion fades.
The pieces link up.
And I can finally see the whole picture.

My soul craves for written words.
My soul is inked.

i'm gay.
no. i can't be.
i must be staright.
ok fine not straight.
but there's still no way i'm gay.
that ****'s just not okay.
maybe I can call myself bi
and suddenly it all seems right
i did though honestly really try.
but no, definitely not straight
which should be okay.
i shouldn't be scared to go to my parents and say.
mum, dad.
i'm bi.
i shouldn't be judged by the public eye.
for my decision not to date a guy.
the word love isn't up for debate.
regardless of who i choose to date.
love is always the same.
love is love.
it's the butterfly feeling you get in the pit of your stomach each time you see them.
it's the fear in your heart that they might not always be yours.
it's the hope you have for the future.
the smile you see on their face.
love is just that. love.
i've finally accepted myself for who i am.
why can't you do the same ?

I always take a deep breath, close my eyes and let that feeling take over me.

Every day, only for a few seconds, I allow my body to remember your touch, allow my mind to remember your voice, yet I’ll never let my heart remember your love.

The bruises are long gone from my skin, the wounds healed by time, however my heart is hardly beating, barely holding on. It took me a long time to realize the anguish I found myself in, an eternity to uncover the many masks you wore with me.

There was a finesse in your abuse, an artfulness to your ways. You would soften your blows with tender words, softly touching what you already hurt.

For days, weeks and months, I stayed. I stood by you, blindfolded, numb to the constant pain, used to the steady flow of fear cursing through my veins.

I loathe that I let you in, let you break me down repeatedly but most of all, I hate that I love you.

I know you have questions.
I know you have wounds and scars.
I know you were hurt before, who wasn't?
I know you think you can do everything now.
I know you think time is in your hands.
I know you think life is longlasting, a slow ticking bomb.
Think. I said think. Thats what you think. That's what I thought.
Now I know that questions would have answers, and some, were just meant to be unanswered.
Now I know the pain I felt, is nothing but a blessing.
Now I know time is fleeting, that life is so short.
Now I know, now I realise that there is a time. For everything. In due season.
Everything that happens, happens for a reason.

There is a wave of sadness in her
But you wouldn’t see it
There is a dam of tears waiting to burst
But you wouldn’t see it
There is a dream suffocating within her
But you wouldn’t hear it
There is a confused soul crying for help
But you wouldn’t hear it

For more than riding the wave about to engulf
Or wipe the tears out to drown her life
Or revive the dreams off to die
She would rather keep up the façade of being strong
Die every moment than let the world see her weak.