This is a personal documentation through poetry.
I am learning to look inward now, give myself love when I least want to. I do not live to love others, I live to love myself. I will find and create what is enough for me, and you will learn to let it...
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I can unravel you like a ball of yarn in my hands, but that doesn't mean a thing. Where can we go that will hold a space for us alone? Eyes are always on me; Who wants to decipher my next move? Isn't it all performative? You have been lost and found over and over in my head, each time you create a new form for yourself. Or maybe I mold it for you. A being I can't quite figure out how to hold. My hands would hurt you ten times over, Burn over old scars that never heal, and you know this. You know this. It's all I ever know how to do, Lose, and lose, and lose. You keep yourself locked up tight, Despite all the hearts before. But sometimes, if you're feeling generous, You will let me peek through the blinds. I cannot describe what it is I see, But I have a hard time believing it's real. I could learn a thing or two from you, Maybe figure out how to keep myself shut and locked before I hurt anyone else. Yet when I fall asleep, I wake up with a glistening key in my hands. No one ever tells me what to do, No one ever puts my kid gloves on for me, So I have to figure this out on my own. I'll leave the key on the counter, Think about going back to it later, But just go to bed. I will dream that I unravel you, top to bottom, Inside and out, But that doesn't mean I want to.
