breathless

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you ask, and just like always,
i'll have no other options but to tell you that

"i'm okay"
i'll say
an easy smile
practised, believable.

even if i'd told you the truth
wouldn't you just give empty comfort?

"i'm okay, really"
i say
as i wither away
an empty shell.

but why'd ask if it wasn't so obvious
do you really only take my word as gospel?

"of course i'm okay."
i whisper.
i feel myself slipping, but
i want to go under.

please, please, can't you see past, just
see me as i frantically grapple for you-

"don't i look okay?"
i'm getting good at this.
too good.
good at everything i shouldn't be.

you leave, and my fingers are outstretched but please please please don't fucking leave me i can't do this alone it's all too much tell me it's all in my head tell me i'll get better tell me tell me tell me

"i'm...i want to be okay."
but i don't deserve to
and i don't get to
because there is no room in this world

for those who do naught but sin
and throw away chances again and again
and let everyone down
there's no love for those who can't love.

"oh. so,
i'm not okay."

i've said it.
but nobody is there to hear it.
i confess the truth to myself, but
nothing but tears accompany me.

it hurts, it hurts so much
my fragile heart, barely tides me through.
i am so strong against words of love but
crumple under slightest criticism.

i'm not okay, but nobody sees me
as i am, struggling
because a compulsive, fluid liar
can't tell the truth anymore.

23/3/22

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