My hurt just wants to be heard.
When my eyes get angry,
they are blind to everything but another’s weaknesses.
This is never more true than when I look in a mirror.
I always feel broken,
And I spend all my energy bridging all the gaps where I might break open.
- Keep Breathing
- Stay Connected, not through screens , but through empathy
- Be better than what broke you
We measure each other’s hurt against our own
Because we cannot fathom healing.
We don’t know how.
I want to tell you all my secrets without the blood rushing to my face,
Without lockjaw wiring my words shut.
I want to be brazen about my truths,
no more hangovers from wreck less vulnerable nights before.
My revelations are children petrified of the high drive–
An entanglement of terrified tightrope walkers along my taste buds,
Cliffhanging confessions begging to let go.
But here I am,
begging the Gods that you’ll open up first,
Be a little braver than me.
The thing is,
love isn’t a staring contest.
The only thing stone faced and unflinching gives you is regrets.
i want to be so loud you can’t hear my hurt,
a string of nonsensical rebuttals so long you can’t untangle them back to the fears they’re tied to,
and when rage has wrung my lungs of air and your stamina gives way,
the thunderous hurt will linger.
Breaking news is like breaking a champagne bottle–
Relief in shattering the wait,
Thrilling to open,
But someone will always cut their feet on the glass.