I miss being praised.
Is that narcissistic? Selfish? Self-Obsessed?

No matter how much things may improve, the lack of a constant reassurance that used to exist leaves a gaping hole of insecurity.

You may improve yourself, get better, but if someone is not telling you that you are, have you actually improved? Are you truly getting better?

If progress is based off your own assessment isn’t that biased?

I Give Up.

grab me and wrap me up
in hope and
possibility

paint my walls white
to erase these
bruises

softly hold my face as my eyes
pour out the worlds
pain

but please

whisper in the night
of your love
as i drift

There is no perfect word,
no adjective or noun
just a combination of
         I hate
         I worry
         I regret
         Am I enough?

It's a moment where my insecurities
are no longer a low hum
and I discover a whole
          new shade of
                  self-doubt

I suppose we wear our traumas
the way the guillotine wears gravity;
our lovers necks are so soft.
So sweet
Too innocent;
Kisses like cold, corrupt metal.

Those seven seconds of silence
When you wait for anything;
Any sign that they understand
What you’ve been through
waiting in those seconds
To be reassured by
‘I love you’

Sitting in dust of a dark room
Confiding in them your secrets
Those seven seconds of silence
They **** you.

On edge, free falling
The guillotine dropping in your stomach
Eyes desperate for reassurance
at complete mercy
To this person
Right in front of you

And when they hug you
Brought your head out of danger
Shattered the blade

Saved you from death

Loved you to life

That guillotine,
Nothing more
Than fear of being unloved

Breath in:
         It’s okay;
Breath out:
         He’s still here.
Life won’t
         Just fade away,
So stop
         All of your worry.
He would tell
         You if it got bad.
He’s a big boy—
         He can live his life.
You don’t need
         To **** in;
He probably
         Wouldn’t like it.
But what if
         He needs me?
And what if
         He can’t say?
Repeat.

I must be the problem
I can sense the annoyance
Their lack of words leave me shaking

I am sorry
For being me
Existing, perhaps

They're tired of it
Needing reassurance
My anxiety

And like that
I am lost in you.
The simplest of touch is all it takes.
Lost in that feel good place that beckons our name over and over.
The physical manifestation of what we both know to be true.
The feel of your skin pressed tight against mine.
Our fingers lost in the rhythm.
The Times we've made mistakes like this.
Our lips hesitant.
Reaching out to one another in a pace we can both relate.
You feel me and I know this to be true.
Both of us lost.
Slipping and sliding in reassurance.
Eluding the overwhelming thought that at any moment our eyes will shut tight and our inner fear will dissipate into eruption.
Anticipation built high.
We both brace for the thrill of fire.
A match striking the side of box.
Over and over until we are both consumed.
Blown away in satisfaction.
Neither of us can speak.
The peak of ascension.
And Like that I am lost.
Caressing you until the last ember is blown out