I'm sorry my internal wounds,
are too damaged for your
clean subconscious,
to lay a finger on.
and i’m sorry
if my problems
are a burden,
but i have more secrets
buried beneath my mind
than you have lies
inside your throat.  
and I am sorry
that I am too much for you.
but my problems
are me.
and if you can’t accept
every part of me
you don’t deserve
any part of me.

and each time your fingers
press against my flesh
i wish i was dead
but with each moment
of intimacy
breeds a repressed memory.
so forgive me,
if i must drink
to be able to love you.
forgive me,
for cringing when I’m sober
but the last person
I gave my heart to
intentionally ****** me,
unwillingly.
just like all the men before me
the ones who are demons
of my memory,
chasing after me.

the only man I’ll ever love
goes by the name Jack,
and he can ease my troubled mind
and make me forget
in ways no actual person can,
so call me Mrs Daniel's
and put a ring upon my finger
followed by a shot class
and let me forget
about what I wish didn’t exist.
I’ve heard once
that misery loves company,
but what happens
when i’m more miserable
than you.

so no company,
would ever actually want me.
misery loves company,
but it remains unrequited.

It was a sunday,
that I remember like it was
yesterday.
and I wished,
I could kiss your lips,
and feel you emotionally.
But the problem,
with intimacy is,
it’s mostly a two way street.
emotional or physical.
rarely both.

So I stand back,
and look at the lights,
as they hit your soft eyes,
and tell me things about myself,
I never really knew.

I took pride in the fact,
I wanted nothing,
and life gave back the same.
But as you entered,
I soon came to realize,
that everything will change.

and it did,
good or bad,
I still can’t decide.

But I wish,
I was as simple,
as coloring a page,
with crayons
and colors and detail.
anyway you want,
anyhow you want.

But I am a jigsaw puzzle,
with the pieces thrown together,
most of them missing.

You came to me,
when I needed it most.
But it’s not enough,
to rid of my ghosts.

Insecurity is a burden to be,
which is why i cling to independency.
I wish it were different,
but you are you,
and sadly,
I am me.

The problem with intimacy is,
it can leave me more exposed,
and naked
and cold,
Then any type
of lustful encounter
ever could.

How can you open up,
and give yourself to someone,
with such little to offer,
and so much to handle.
If I could harness the hands of time,
I would use them to feel you,
in ways I never could.
I would take back the times,
I chose liquid courage,
instead of truth,
and lust,
instead of sanity.

The problem with closeness,
is it breeds distance.
And there aren’t enough,
hands of time to ever turn back,
how badly I pushed you away.

I would love to love,
but some things,
are so overwhelmingly terrifying,
you’d rather feel nothing,
than get something
and feel everything,
all at once.

I tried before,
to get to you,
in ways I never had,
like deep conversation,
and learning about each other.
But some things,
are never enough,
and sadly,
the hands of time,
can never wipe away the past.

Is it beautiful?
Or terrifying,
the way love can feel.

Raindrops drip from your fingertips,
only to imminently be evaporated
by the sun’s wave of smoldering heat.
Do you cling to those raindrops,
because you crave the touch on your skin?
Or do you wait for the sun,
because you crave the warmth beneath your curves?

I have felt the rain,
and weathered the storm.
I have danced in the warmth,
and soaked the sun beneath my feet.
Both equally making me feel complete.
Both teaching me things about myself I never knew.

It is beautiful,
to love.
It is terrifying,
knowing love can be lost.
But like the sun rises,
and the water nourishes
its merely unavoidable,
but necessary for growth.

Take my hand,
and let us walk in the rain.
Let the sun dry out the emotions,
flooding through my brain.
With the warmth of your skin,
and the storm of your eyes.
I will be fine.
I will be fine.

The magnificent burden, of a gentle touch
could it be I care too much?
could my actions lead to distractions,
and wind up backfiring on me?
I long for you as far as the eye can see,
but does my own vision deceive?
Am I blinded by lust and confused by love
or do my words mean nothing
because my actions mean everything?
The only thing we can hold true to us,
is sight, and sound and taste and touch.
But what happens when I’m just too much?
Am I what you bargained for,
or were you hoping for something more?

I have given bits and pieces of myself,
to everything I’ve ever loved
and taken back the same.
But what happens
when you end up forgetting
why exactly these pieces remain?
Parts of me, aren’t apart of me
and apart of me is missing.
Seems to me, what’s left
is just a puzzle with history.

So will you take me
in all of my glory, and sorrow, and despair
or will you throw away the security blanket
and tell me what I don’t want to hear?
Don’t tap-dance through my tragedy,
and try not to console my wounded soul.  
Tell me what you feel and fear
and maybe, potentially,
you could fill this hole.