My heart grows,
and my cracks, with it.
I'm boiling
a steamy mess,

this anger,
popping in, with a grand “Hello”!
They lift their shields,
wresting my weapons.

I anxiously cope,
knotting a sense of self,
to my cowardice,
in vain.

Their support,
bends and molds me.
You smile.
It's reciprocated.

You tear me open.
My snick,
held by untrusted twine.
Split cotton ends; no soft ones at that.

My heart may grow.
My smile does not.
My ears attentive,
to tension, beyond my grasp.

I'm like a tree in winter,
only, a subtle difference;
they sleep through the cold.

I'm like a tree in winter,
although, all seasons,
make my insides rot.

See, the thing is,
my trunk is freezer burnt,
I've stopped growing,
branches are falling off,

I’m a dying tree

in a forest

blooming with

creativity.

Distraction corrupts you.
As you lack interest.
I am just, noise.
Your ears are cushioned; absorbing a buzz.

Just listen to me, respect me.
Mocking me as I try to be civil.
You belittle me.
And the buzzing stops.

Your head finally turns.
You slapped the fly,
and its juices neatly seat the bench,
and you stare, and you don't care.

I slump, melting.
Clenching my jaw.
You pluck my wings,
and I let you.

My dignity stripped.
Your ego; unrestrained, unrestricted.
I just watch,
as my eyes blurt a river.

Believe it or not -

I gather you do.

I’m fueling, a growing fire

which burns bright
and gold.

Since my shy heart,

loves beauty

for it, is all of you.

A glowing sun,

playful and greedy,

as I.

To want more than you’re given,
To see more than you can reach,
To love with no place to put it.
But most of what surrounds you can’t or won’t meet you there.
That mismatch?
That’s the curse.

i drain him.
i know it.
and still,
i stay.

i say i’m trying,
but really,
i’m cracking.
i’m drowning
with his lungs
in my chest.

next i’ll bleed
through his arms,
sob
through his eyes,
wreck
what’s left
of his heart.

i was never
meant
to be held.

hi

beware of getting close to me.

we can be friends for a while,

and then i’ll get attached.

that’s when things get sour

i fall apart thinking about what you think about.

growing close to you is terrifying..

and i can’t quite go with it.

I’m sorry

i’m scared

i’m not good at this.

Can we forget that this existed?