I look at you and notice
The cells we’ve made
That contain us
Alone. I look at my hands
And wonder if they’re strong enough
To break my cell
And everyone else’s too.
A hand that prides itself on softness.
When I close my eyes,
The cell remains.
When I breathe for myself,
The cell dissolves.
Let me catch my breath for a moment.
Let me feel that I am temporary.
Like the melted wax on a menorah by the sixth night of Hanukah
I reheat to remelt
Actively letting go
Of your buildup.
He looked a little dead inside
With his eyes glazed, forward
For himself. I found
Myself tilting my head as I looked
At him looking
At the air between us.
Do you feel what everybody feels?
Or are you alone, your soul wandering,
A mended body
Something inside, like a heart
(Or a fist)
Signalling a life
(Or a suffering)
Yet you step forward each moment
Into the forgiving future
That allows you to be whole
If you wish
If you try
If you dare
I wonder when you will leave me.
I wonder what your excuse will be.
I wonder if I should trust you at all,
Give you the opportunity to leave me
I wonder what your intentions are
I wonder if you know who you are
I wonder if you wonder about me
(Wishing to know)
(More about you)
Please tell me you’ll make a dent.
I am tired of relationships that end
without pain, without an ending. Fizzle
due to a lack of heat to begin with. Fizzle
into an ending that was obvious from the start.
I want a relationship that I know will hurt if it ends,
that will leave me broken. Only then will I know
that I have felt deeply. Only then will I know
that it was worth it. I want to be whole
with someone that might break me,
not because I like to be broken
but because I like to be whole.
And I know I can be whole again
after a breaking, for I have done it already,
and I can do it again.
Be that potential for hurt with me.
Be that potential for love.
You see two friends reunite at a stoplight
With their windows down
Having forgotten to remember
I am here,
I reunite myself.
Have I fallen apart?
I wonder alone, out loud
When I see a reflection
Like a hero,
Like overcooked meat.)
Too much heat
Too many thoughts
Too many people
(I haven’t checked in
I am a squatter
In my own life
Remaining without rent
Me but hardly me
I have filled myself with others’ stories.
Stories to avoid my own.
Stories to carry,
to listen to on repeat in my own head late at night,
when I am forgetting to be writing my own.
Stories of pain
and difficulty and happiness and
memories, felt or lost or forgotten
until they are told out loud.
I have been overflowing with other selves
I absorbed, mistakenly
trying to fit them into my own concave interior,
a container to be filled and shipped
somewhere far. I yearn to lock
and steal these stories inside of me,
take them to a new place where I might bury them,
and as I dig their grave, in the soil I find
myself, waiting to be lifted out and taken home.
Like carrying a preventative umbrella on a sunny day
I tell you my flaws before you kiss me
Because you never know
If they’ll want to know you
are they flaws?
are they flawed?)