1. Memories, For, When I Am. (Being edited 2024)

Therapy for things I used to do (Heartbeat)

This is mostly about things I either learned or used to do in my childhood and trying to internalize why I relate more towards one gender than I do the other. It's a whole bunch of things really. Lot's of questions of why and how and wishing I stayed somewhere when now I realize fully that going different places and meeting new people though similar to those I knew shaped me into a better person. I realize I always say things shape me even though I'm always being broken down again. This is for when things like that happen. Enjoy. oh and as a note when I say hands I mean I was friends with someone until either I or they moved away.

When I was a child

I'd give people hugs

and listen to their hearts

beat slow in time,

but not once did I listen to my mother's...

maybe that is to why 

my mind behaves as if

it were corrupt.

As I'd listen

I leaned their life

and it was both saddening

and soothing

but not once did I hear

a good tale from the hearts

of men...

maybe that is why

I'd rather understand

women and children

other or rather than myself.

Let me listen to your heart

flow your life through its

days,

I can share with you this

comfort I lack.

I used to be the world

for the older girls I knew

I was their darling. 

we held hands but

once, before we all

drifted away

like blossoms in the

wind,

but I brought on them

what I could

and my heart soon

shattered when I realizes

we'd all be gone

as did I assume of

others

and now I console myself.

I remember when I

was in grade school

of how I had two best friends

no three,

who I thought, one I could hold on to but didn't work out

he was my brother,

she was a lily,

and the other, she was innocent,

I wish we had never 

fled from my childhood

(that year)

and yet where I go

these archetypes repeat

and resonate with the desires

of my heart of flames

bound and frozen in ice

that only these papers

of meaningless words

to strangers know,

or rather strangers I 

know that don't know me,

yet at least or I hope.

I used to cry myself 

to sleep because I felt

unwanted and I had

no one to oversee or keep safe

as the world conspired against 

me as I dreamed in an abyss 

of sorrow

maybe that is why

I still slip into what

I was,

empty,

like a sentient nothingness

that not even I am above.

I used to have more than

genuine friends, now

I mostly drift through

acquaintances that I'd

like to know but would

rather not go about explaining

things once more over,

maybe this is why

I feel alone and unable

to find who this person

in my shoes appears to

be....

Who this person in my shoes appears to be.

I don't need a shrink

nor a therapist

nor a psychiatrist

and frankly I'd rather

not have one

maybe that is why

I find solace in

these people I know and used to,

ad in these papers that

hold my soul,

they are my only therapy,

for, when I want to

find comfort in

their ever beating hearts;

so forgive me

if I never

let you go from my grasp

because I like

doing things

that I can't

anymore

to keep myself

from letting go

the story once heard from within

their heartbeats

are my only

therapy

for things I use

to do.