Is it wrong
To wish
That for all the scars I own,
I could reopen just one
To let my demons spill out
So as to cleanse myself
Of the torturing sins
I carry as a weight
Within my veins...
But Alas
That would do nothing
But let more darkness in
...

it's one in the morning
and i have so many emotions
swelling in the space between
my lungs

the space where
i imagine my soul
resides

i don't know
why, but i feel
i know
that my soul is a tangible
expanding, moving
thing
trapped in my ribcage
my fragile bones are
a birdcage for
the paper bird that is my soul

it really does feel
like it can fly
sometimes,
like now
the darkest hour of the night
or when
i let certain songs
permeate my skin
and sink into my bones

my soul is an *****
visceral, necessary
for my very survival.
a comforting weight
in the space between my lungs
when i lose my grip
or my breath
i can feel it, always there
it grounds me.

Do not lie to me
Because I see crystal clear
And I am begging you to say
The phrase I need to hear

Those magic heavy words
Would make my reality live
This precious fleeting gift
Could be the one you give

Though life and love hurt
The pain feels good
Slices old wounds open
Once more like it should

I am done with tears
And over-dissection
No more obsessing
Over beauty and perfection

With nowhere to run
I am floating in a freeze
I am trapped in a body
No one else sees