poetry, or something.

i keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

for the things that keep me up at night to come to fruition.

all of my darkness—

the shame,

the guilt,

over all of the things that go bump in the night

will see the light of day eventually.



growing pains,

breaking open.

transformation, they call it?

it feels a lot like rebirth.

sit with your brokenness, they said.

it will be your guide.

all i have to go on are nightmares,

two nights of passion—

one night of violence.

enough trauma for a lifetime of

misery



basically, i wish that you loved me.

the sting of rejection never hurts any less.

a touch, a hand to hold,

the warmth

of another living being

pressed against me.

is that really so much to ask?

out of a lover

out of a friend

out of a person

we spend every single day with,

kiss goodnight,

have built a life with?