When the music's off and the room gets empty

Shaping

I'm not okay. I haven't been okay in months.

But you aren't here to ask.

Am I too much to be loved? I can be smaller.

Am I too loud to be loved? I can be quieter.

You can stab my soul, and I'll apologize

For getting blood on your shirt,

For making the cloth look ugly and cluttered.

Am I worthy to be loved,

Or is this another test?

Another trial, another mess

For me to clean with my hands,

Bent over—

But the mess comes from my chest.

I'll carve myself into shapes you'll accept,

Fold my edges to fit into spaces

I was never meant to fill.

I'll hold my breath to make room for yours,

Even as my lungs beg for air.

Is my love too heavy to carry?

I can strip it bare,

Leave only the pieces you find beautiful—

Even if they're the ones I need most.

I would carve your name into my wrists if it meant for you to become a part of me again.

Beckon and I will come.

Call and I will run.

-August

love y'all so much! mwah<3