Can we blame anyone for our insecurities
and low self-esteems?
Are they self-inflicted, or a result of having our true selves continuously rejected?
Having to constantly alter yourself to fit a societal model that is appreciated and accepted.

Are we projecting too much hurt?
To the point there is no more good to feel within and about our own selves?
Are we wallowing in sadness and imperfections,
that we feel unable to find joy in anything?

Who am I supposed to blame -
blame for no longer wanting to go outside because I feel filthy inside when people gaze at me?
Their stares look more like laughter -
laughter at the insecurities weighing heavy and breaking my posture.

I am not perfect, but I am not flawed.
The world may have given up on loving me;
loving me for my uniqueness and authenticity,
but I will never overcome my brokenness if I give up on loving myself -
and for that love to suffice;
but concede to the societal standard:
I am not acceptable, or wanted.

I’m driving past the school that I went back to for five, six, seven years straight—

The place that grew up around me like a dessert oasis— or Rapunzel’s tower.

I wonder if I should stop and put my hands on the old white bricks,

Like maybe touching the school will be like touching my childhood and it will heal my broken heart.

But I’m already past the turnoff going 45 miles an hour, so I turn my wandering eyes back to the road ahead.

And at the green light ahead, my unrequited love is riding a bicycle across the street one-handed and smoking a cigarette,

Wearing a shirt that says “please hit me with your car, so that I can just stop feeling”

But I swerve, and he slowly pedals on

Who needs enemies when denial is your best friend?

When you find every excuse to escape the truth once again.

I was desperate for answers

How could this be?
This wasn’t us.

This wasn’t the plan.

What am I missing?

How can I fix this?

Please help me understand.

I became the master of avoidance.

My punishment, long suffering, forever chasing the wind…

We’re told patience is the key.

Head-strong is a virtue.

But then comes ‘love’ and to hell with all the rules.

Feelings whisper to our souls in tones impossible to ignore… follow me, take my hand.

Don’t let go.

If all else fails we can always try again.  

And so we did.

We tried again.

AND again.  

And AGAIN….

Are we REALLY doing this AGAIN?!

And I’ve had this conversation with myself a million times replayed.

Do I love you?

I mean I do

Wait...

See the truth is, whether I still do or don’t the only question I’ve needed to ask myself all along has been this:

Do YOU love me like I have loved you?

Because it seems that sometimes our mind’s eye feeds us these beautiful lies

like this feels like love…

when it’s anything but.

And we forget

We forget to ask the right questions

Senses irrelevant.

We run blind

Face first into the night

Idolizing these pretty pictures we’ve imagined…

our vision is clouded with what ifs and the magic of ‘possibility’.

We make our make-believe our fake reality.

Operating on feelings completely void of sight…

Like the place where I left the benefit of my doubt, hopelessly settled into the creases of your filthy hands

The rest of your dirt hidden from all the world to see

None of this was ever what it seemed.

Like a sickness this disease of “us” infiltrated every aspect of my being.

You broke away at the foundation of all that I had ever believed…

In my desperation I sought counsel

I fasted and I prayed

Searching every last corner of my heart I laid my offerings upon the alter and let my tears fall…

Petitioning the heavens to intervene.

Tears falling down the soft rounds of my face, burning and purifying my skin all at once each drop like the devil’s hand, a steady knock upon the door of my shattered heart

tempting me to look back...

I turned the dead-bolt, finally destroying your key.

And with my weary soul and this half empty cup I began to pour every last ounce of myself into healing… into all that I am and everything you hate but were so desperate to keep.

With each fragment of the shameful mess you left behind I assemble a new fortress.

Piece by beautiful piece.

Hey you, reading this.
You may be scared, you may be frustrated,
lonely or heartbroken.
I shall tell you something great, you are beautiful and worth it.
Don't wither because of the cruel world.
Stay fresh like a flower that blooms bravely.
Keep your head up, be proud.
The sun rises, the sun sets.
Make each and every day colorful.
Colour yourself with positive thoughts, shine.
Paint the perfect picture of you in your mind
and strive for it, make it real.
Stay with the people you adore.
Go out for a walk with them, drink coffee,
watch your favorite movie together,
talk about the things you love, your passion,
smile, laugh and forget about the cruel world.

Staples on a heart
Long ago fallen apart
Staples on a heart
The tears begin to start

Memories are truly dark
Everything is stark
In sorrow I embark
Memories are truly dark

Sadness is a gift
Although it carves a rift
A mind cursed to drift
Sadness is a gift

I've never written poetry to be liked
or even understood
I just want to reach someone,
touch someone
in a way my hands never could
I just want to be truthful and authentic
to my soul and to you
I want you to see the complexities
so I know those who stick
are the ones willing to see
my words, my meaning and my brokenness