there is this woman that speaks to you through the premise of me. she's a guarddog.
i have always hesitated to like someone. i have always felt like an intruder to even the thought of naming my own pleas mine. so, my love lies in the attic waiting to be addressed. she's a guard-dog she'll bark through atrocities and tell you tales of rotten love.
there is this girl in my class. i think she's beautiful. i want to tell her but i don't. i can't. i don't know this hesitation that reeks of me but i have housed it now. hesitation wears me like a garment true to it's weaver. all my love is piling up from the hug backs i have saved for i don't know when. she keeps the love hidden in trunks until it rots.
there is this woman that speaks to you and doesn't falter through the premise of me for a girl that chants ❛affection will always be a stain on my sleeve and layering your clothes will not wash it away❜.
my friends ask me why my hands keep shaking. i tell them i don't know but this is normal. i don't have anxiety. i have been living with hands this shaky for the entirety of my life. i think it is because my soul has been a battleground and, the girl and the woman have been combating. the guard-dog always wins. it loves the girl but it cannot lose to her.
