loving myself
has never been the problem-
it's easy to follow guidelines
(and it's all I'm good at,
directions in front of me,
but no one comprehends
when I say that).
hearts of gold
don't shine bright enough to find them-
I always dig up tin can souls.
dented and worn,
they never listen
but cutting myself on their edges,
their punctures
jagged and raw
to soften the blows they deal others
and buffering harm for themselves
is something I can't stop doing.
bleeding exhaustion on the sidewalk
I'll hold you up until the end
(it's fine if you give nothing but silence
in return- the rest of them do)
but I'll keep sifting through the dirt
for a softer heart to hold.
YOU ARE READING
open letters to no one
Poesiapoems I can't keep to myself. things to get off my chest with verbs, nouns, adjectives. life lessons I have no one to share with. texts I really should send but don't have the courage to. things I can't say aloud. in essence, words I want to scream...
