I find it sad that I've begun associating you with headaches and bad dreams more often than not.

It's like the only way to reach out to you is to reschedule the days you want to fall in love with me all over again like those days are just some sort of meeting for me to potentially become a home for you.

My arms are open like the front doors of a 5 story mansion with a small attic added on top like icing to a cake and yet you refuse to close them for good for me.

You arrive and pull open every single window and door, you turn on all of the lights, and every trinket that thrives off of my energy is switched on in addition to that without a care in the world of how much of my electricity you are wasting.

Eventually you come to the heart of the house, you turn the flame on high on the stove, you walk straight out and you leave me to burn again.
It's every single time I see you that you do this to me, and somehow I always found the tools to rebuild myself.

This time is different. This time I can't because I'm shattered beyond repair.  Being the glorious architect that you are I figure you could design the sort of place you actually wish to live in.

But you won't.
I'm not in your outline anymore, am I?

You once told me you wanted to fix me, and now is your final chance, because once I find the courage, the meaning, and my resilience to assemble myself once more... Just know that:

I'm closing all of the doors and locking them from the inside with golden keys that I can melt down into reminders of who I'm to not let back in. My arms will not open up for your embraces any longer, lover, not even if you try to pry them open.

I'm closing all of the windows and barring them from your needy hands. They will have to find a new toy to play with.

I'm turning off all of the lights so someone new can learn where the lightswitches to my soul are located, since no matter how often I moved them from you, you still knew me well enough to turn me on.

I'm extinguishing the flame that is constantly flickering between our fragile figures, blowing it out like a candle, and never giving you the ability to light me up again.

I am a female powerhouse and I belong to no one.

If it were easier to be proud,
I might be.
But positivity doesn't often
ring in me.
I have shined for so many years,
making proclamations of my thoughts and fears,
relentlessly opening my heart,
my doors,
my mind.
Only to be crushed a dozen times.
And maybe it is beautiful that I keep trying.
But it doesn't feel that way on the
inside.
It is like
harboring a monster in me,
and hoping one day someone could
love it.
I can smile in so many ******* directions and it has
never
fixed the beast.
And it eats and feasts on
feelings.
I believe my neurons and nerve endings,
and my seratonin and dopamine,
have all been over-
compensating.
For fear of losing it all to this
thing
in me.
It's been there since I was about
13,
and I thought it had stopped
growing.
Long dormant,
but now returning from
submission.
Moving from feelings and making bigger decisions.
I fear he is now eating
me.
Some sickness from the inside out,
beginning with my sense of doubt.
And lack of fulfillment
and stupid ambitions.
And all of the things I have tried to keep hidden.
He is tearing holes in the very foundation
of this ******* facade I've been constantly faking
for something like 5 years
now.
All my best kept secrets are leaking through the cracks,
leaving people feeling like they're
sorry they asked.
He will go for my bones, and then my skin,
after devouring the flesh within
until there's
nothing
left of me.
I have been piles before.
Crumbled, bumbling,
cautiously fumbling for
doors or
floors
or lightswitches.
Chased into beds with sheets
far less than neat,
he's been following me for
some time now.
And I keep thinking I can write him out.
But the feeling never sticks around.
And the words will cease to make me proud.
It comes back.
Like clockwork.
Year after year,
cold after cold,
he is there.
Somewhere in me.
Eating steadily, slowly.
Savoring the taste of my suffering.
Depleting my positivity,
and filling it with other things.
And what I have been wondering
is if I can somehow make it leave
and allow what's left of me to breathe,
one day will it be easy
to be
proud?

I have a vision of hope
For all  souls that yearn and are never sated
Those led astray by the world's misgivings
In the prime of their lives
I have the panacea

For all that despair
Who've watched their conscience stollen from them,
Their minds programmed negatively
With sadistic teachings

Leaving them craving for wealth and power
And then they can shed all the blood
till they fulfill their desire
I have a formula

I have a dream for change
To start the  conversation
Write the poem that will break  barriers
Unify all humanity
And begin transformation

Remind a brother of his mate
Living in the gutter
Turn all daggers into kitchen knives
And security budget to relief budget

Come join me on my revelatory path
We can achieve equality for all
We can cease all wars
Morality is engraved in everyone

Every person has some light in him
They might be murderous
A nightwalker's nightmare
But there is hope

We can turn on the lightswitches in their hearts
With love
Everyone lets give it a whirl today...
Love is all