It’s not about the money itself—
it’s about being happy
with the choices
I’ve chosen for myself.

But this,
I already knew.

So why did someone from outside
have to tell me
this truth
that was already here?

Because I still don’t know
how to validate
the ideas
of my own voice.

Why do I let people in?
To wipe their feet on my carpet?
To add potholes to my road?
To be a cancerous growth in my chest?

Or is it in hopes:
That they add beautiful patterns,
A more clearer route,
Medicine for my mind?

No.
That is called delusion.
Every time you trust someone.
It’s just a reminder why you shouldn’t trust anyone.
At all.

The passing of people is a wound,
but the passing of trust is a death.
When people go,
they leave their shadows in the rooms of memory.
When trust goes,
it steals the light from those shadows,
and sets fire to the bridges
that could have carried them home.
Trust, once broken,
is a mirror in ruins
even if you mend it,
the crack still hides in the glass,
waiting in your reflection.

"OhPlease", I say,
Looking deep into the darkest nights
Searching, reaching for the faintest lights
.
Let my downfall be my softness
Let it be that I loved too much
Let me find the beautiful parts of broken souls
And let those souls consume me.
.
Let me feed the hungry.
.
And scandalize the righteous.
To hold those deemed not worth holding
Let me become the monster
Who might forgive the unforgivable
.
Let my trust in the betrayer
Throw me from my throne
I trusted the traitor,
Let me not be alone

That was before you
wanted
to do anything with us.

That was before I
trusted
you.

That was before I
trusted
anyone.

That was before I
trusted
myself.

That was when I
only trusted
the glow of my laptop in an empty room.

A bouquet from a man of few poetic words,
Left me at a loss, struggling for words,
Amidst the sunflowers, bright and bold,
I found a key to his home, a chapter to unfold.

It was a symbol of trust, a door opened wide,
An invitation to enter, with nothing to hide,
No poem or love letter could ever convey
The depth of his feelings in such a meaningful way.

"Blood's thicker than water", they say.
But, it looks bad when it oozes.
They say, "Water is life."
But, you can drown in it.

If its bad in the face
Its even worse in the back

Behind closed doors
Behind the dont tell anyone’s
Behind the what is said here stays here

Hate spreads like wildfire
Trickling to the outer most parts of a soul

And you think its okay
Cause how would she ever know
But I know

What happens in the face isn’t all that different
What happens in the back is starting to blend
The wall has to fall eventually

I will forever look back in regret
Of calling you someone
I could trust