self

I betrayed myself falling in love

Not because of the love but the subject

I gave and was still willing to give, until there was

a deficit within me. I gave up me just to have a feeling

a feeling I can give myself when I take the time to see me

Bigger Dreams

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Regret

I go back and forth daily. Trying to get to a place where I don’t go back and forth at all. Fighting to get every part of you out of me, my mind, and my body. It is a curse. I am haunted. Haunted by the what if’s, the why’s, the maybe’s. I don’t want any of it, yet every room I enter, every pull of my heart, and every song reminds me. It flashes your face before me and pulls more of my soul into hell. Burning with desire, love, and hatred. I write about it every day. How many ways can I say I love you, that I miss you, that it hurts?

I’ve spent the last couple months just trying to detangle everything that keeps me attached to my past. Not just my past, but the things that bring pain into my present. It is one of the hardest things to do. It’s not as easy as just saying I don’t want this or that anymore. It’s not as easy as keeping my distance from people who don’t have my interest at heart. Mentally I know they weren’t their best towards me. I know I deserved better. But my heart doesn’t seem to be on the same page.

Sometimes it’s not about you. Nor the love you have to give. Rather the love they feel unworthy to accept. The love they’re insecure to express for fear you’ll run the more of them you see.

As if you don’t see already?

I do, I did.

I smelled the doubt. I saw it when you looked at me, and you felt like you could do this forever. But forever hadn’t lasted before. I’d watch that steel cage descend, the edges of your smile lower to “control”. I know.

The pain gripping you from all the poignant loss. The second guessing of if you can even let go because you’ve made that mistake before. A game she well played. You wonder if you know me, the way you used to feel confidently that you did.

So much so, I was never afraid to tear away my flesh and hold my insides together before you. Knowing you’d still think, even tortured, that my soul was the most beautiful thing you’d been blessed to get to know. That the vulnerability given to you as a gift on faith was as intricate and delicate as your surety.

Every day

I talk about it.

To myself or to someone else.

About the magic of vulnerability.

Of living and loving someone to the point,

where you never feel like you have to hide.

Whether they realise it or not, you feel more

yourself in the essence and air of y’all being

than anywhere else, except when you’re alone.

Pillows

I sleep with three, one for my head, one placed behind me, and one that I hold onto. It fits perfectly from the middle of my thigh to my chest. There’s no other heat, just them warming to my own touch. Sometimes I add the heating pad, just to feel the heat at my back. For the nights my eyes don’t wish to stay closed, or my body can’t release the days tension.