As my space shuttle touches down on earth’s familiar territory
I find I have become more alien than human
Through my journey in the seemingly infinite darkness

I recognize the faces of friends and family
As well as the landmarks of my childhood
However as I remove my helmet, the fresh air feels foreign in my lungs

A language barrier has also erected itself in my absence
My words only result in confused glances
An invisible forcefield thicker than the atmosphere prevents my meaning from landing
Silence has become my method of speech
My native tongue doesn’t rest comfortably between my teeth and lips anymore

I try to remove my bulky battle armour of glass and fabric
It has shielded me from the assault of emptiness
And the weapons of rock and ice that quietly aimed and fired at my heart
Cloaked in shadows and stillness

I find that it is more difficult to remove than I imagined
But I cannot truly return to where I belong until I let its weight fall from my shoulders
And so I must
The steadying anchor of gravity calls me home and I must obey

They aren't just poems,
but my vulnerabilities stripped
onto a page.
These words are the rhythmic song
of my heart,
the lyrics of my mind
These bare words
having an insight
beyond the skin.
To something more vulnerable and deep;
An entry to my mind

“It’s becoming tougher to love you every time you hurt me. It’s becoming tougher to trust you every time you betray me. It’s becoming tougher to be vulnerable every time you exploit me. It’s becoming tougher to lend you my heart when it feels like an open wound in your hand. You taunt me every opportunity you find, brag about my flaws occasionally, criticize and act cold at times. I am tired of visiting the restroom as though it is my sanctuary during occasions, shedding tears and walk out numbing my heart. We ought to be encouraging, loving and supporting one another and not pushing the other down to rise. But the heartaches are becoming often and old wounds are being reopened. It’s becoming tiring to experience it over and over again. I guess for it to not hurt anymore, it shouldn’t matter anymore.”

I thought vulnerability was for the weak.
Even when I let you inside my thoughts
I've had both hands on your steering wheel.
I swerve hard left turns on the difficult memories,
dodging the on coming traffic of blatant truths.
My minds is a pile up on intestate 98
but I have you on the detour route
to Mr. Nice Guy lane on the road of "life is okay".
The next stop is "I am happy" street on the corner
of "you will be all right" avenue and "I don't care" lane.
But these fabricated roads are painted over signs
that trick you into believing that I am truly "fine".
But all the cars have crashed and burned
and now you know the truth.

Remember me fondly,
or not at all.