i wish it was enough.
why can’t it be enough?

i wish you meant it when you say you love me.
i know you think you do,
but you don’t.
because if you loved me,
you wouldn’t be leaving without saying goodnight.
i know you’re not asleep
because you always fall asleep early when i’m upset.
i get it.
i’m too much.
i’m only good
when i’m telling you how much i love you.

if you loved me
you would’ve said
“stop rereading your old poems,
they only hurt you.”
you would’ve said
“baby i love you
and i wish you didn’t feel like you have to cut yourself.”
and you’d mean it.
when i tell you that i want to anyway,
you’d say
“don’t.
but if you do, be safe.”
and i wouldn’t.
because you love me.
but you don’t.

if you loved me,
i’d feel it even when i’m sad.
even when you’re speechless.
and even when you’re upset with me
for being upset.
but i didn’t.
i felt like
i ruined everything.
and i felt like
you didn’t love me.
please come back to me.

Real people smile,
Real people bleed.
Reality is held by physicality,
And philosophical pillars.
You may smile,
But if you smile without knowing what it’s like to bleed,
Somebody will come show you.
It’s humanity,
In retrospect,
It’s human illness.
We wish to see others struggle when we struggle,
But when we are not struggling,
Then there is a disgust placed with the struggling.
For if you know what it’s like to bleed,
Yet, not what it’s like to smile,
You will long to draw blood,
From the smiling.

There’s a mist on the water,
When I wake.
It gets thicker every morning,
Creeping a little farther into shore.
I spend my days now,
Moving my house,
Further up.
Trying not to drown,
In the inevitable gray.
It’s one of those things you don’t escape,
It’s one of those things that never goes away.

It rests,
Slumbers for a while.
But never stops,
Creeping up.
So close to me,
I fear that I’ll run out of energy,
To run,
To escape.
I’ll die in this foggy place,
Join the sirens with their frowns,
Dragging more people,
Down.

To the fog.

I'm mourning the person
I never became
The one who was normal
Who didn't carry all the blame

My younger self would dream
Of many friends and happiness
But all I am now
Is a lump of unsteadiness

I'm mourning the idea
Of the person I would have liked to be
The one that could have been me
The one
That isn't

I never became someone
My younger self wished to be
Saw the things she wanted to see
Instead I feel all this pain constantly

Is that what she survived for?
She did not survive for me to be miserable
She survived for more
She survived for someone
I never became

I remember this nightmare
from years ago
it still haunts me

I'm out of breath
Running
Running
  Running
Something is following me
I run through the halls
of a small
orphanage
Kids watching me as if
I have gone crazy

I burst through the back door
scramble into
A abandoned school bus?
and hide behind one of the seats

Suddenly my Dog is next to me
And a woman with hair made of fire
Is holding a gun to her
She says nothing but I know
its my dog or the orphans

The next thing I know
The fire haired woman is gone
and I hear gunshots
and screams

My therapist told me
I show symptoms of OCD
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
But I do not have it

My days are full of fowl
images
that spread through my brain

like poison
down the waterfall
of my mind

I hold my chest
and whisper goodbye
to my mother

Only I know of the
fatal accident
that will take her life today

I keep the thoughts close
like toddlers running off to play
If I lose track of them
They will become trouble

I'm used to these thoughts
they used to shake me to my core
they don't seem to anymore

I am scared
But I am prepared
I tell myself

They make a hobby out of inappropriate jokes
To tell them to stop is to be told you are not one of them
As if
you ever were

You know your paranoia pushes you further
If they knew the would never see you the same
but do they really See you now?

you laugh to yourself
as you pick blue instead of pink
As if it makes a difference

Your shoulders swallow you whole

without your binder
you are naked
and exposed

Their bodies seem to fit them
comfortable and snug
Like a glove

While yours is like a glove
two sizes too small
and the wrong amount of fingers

I try to focus on the things that help
my voice has lowered
and my face has hair

But dysphoria is a funny thing
its still new to me