sometimes if i try hard enough,
i can feel your skin
beneath my fingers,
silk and strength and finesse.
eyes so blue and gray,
that i can smell the ocean
when i look into them.
i can hear your laughter,
a secret melody
that only i can hear.
it is no wonder that i love you
when your soul
is made of kindness
that bleeds through
even the darkest days.

i just want to fucking love you,
why can’t that be enough?

i want to crawl out of my skin,
shed this ache and
leave it like a ghost.
do i have to feel this haunted
everytime i think i am free.

i call it noise,
but it's just thoughts. 
thoughts that manifest
themselves in tears
and blue and purple bruises
that i could probably excuse,
but i wont have to. 
thoughts that are silent
but so damn loud at the same time.
existing is hard,
and living seems impossible.
i dont know how to 
stop my brain from circling.

functional. 
the problem with functional, 
is that no one accounts 
for all the times 
you contemplate
blowing your brains out
as you sit by the water.
as long as you show up to work,
wash.
rinse.
repeat. 
functional.

i said im sorry
that you caused me pain
and i promise not
to do it again. 
ill be patient and kind.
ill be quiet and soft. 
ill be pleasant,
and i wont be angry. 
ill be anything that 
you can imagine.
ill take the 40 lashes,
if you'll promise to 
comfort me after.
im so sorry
that you hurt me,
i didnt mean to. 

always wash your hands,
before you shove your fingers
down your throat. 

my sense of self worth is not based on your response, i whisper. 
then why are your hands shaking,
why are there tears in your eyes,
my body cries.