Misscommunication

When I am around you,

I feel lost.

Maybe it’s because of the thoughts I have

That drown out what is real,

And what is not–

Maybe it’s my mouth replacing the air with water,

Heavy in my lungs–

 

I’m afraid of what will come up

Once I try to connect the words in my mind

To the sounds in my throat.

I feel closed.

 

I want to protect my heart from the heavy weight I hold

When I see you,

But I’ve realized I can’t see you.

How can I see you when I can’t see myself,

Or when I look around and find no familiarity in my surroundings?

Grey is now permeating everything I see—

So first, it starts with me.

 

I choose to remove the weight

And look forward to my day.

I focus on being present

When the past is pressing in on all sides,

Forcing me to hide.

 

I focus on having patience

When I feel wasted by

The people surrounding me on a daily basis.

 

I focus on communication,

And protecting my mind and my heart

from the forces around me asking me to change who I am

For them,

Because I am worth it.

 

I will say it over and over again,

That I am who I am,

Fallen and imperfect.

I love the cracks in my hands and freckles on my skin,

And the excitement I get from a small moment.

 

I ask nothing to forgive,

I only ask for a conversation,

Not a misinterpretation.

 

I ask for someone to see me past expectation.

See me as a living and breathing human who is prone to making mistakes.

See me as you would see yourself at the end of the day—

As a person.

Paper Planes

Breathing is like pen to paper—like a paper plane flying with writing hidden inside a single page—

Who will get the last say?

Who will find the message left behind?

Maybe it will land in the water and become a boat holding all the hope an entire ocean can hold—

Maybe it will go its own way on a journey to a new place.

Maybe it will find me someday.

I’m Back

What happened to me?

 

When did I decide to give up my soul for a copy?

Copying words and phrases that match the people standing next to me—

And when did I stop myself from being?

 

I can’t think of a moment when I put my wants above someone else—

So I’m reminded that I’ve forgotten how to see myself.

And everything around me seems so grey

That I don’t even know if my likes are mine,

Or just another way

I’ve conformed to find commonality with others.

 

Now I’ve become the stranger. 

 

I look at my image and see pieces thrown together from

other places, other faces,

almost looking natural, 

But something doesn’t add up.

I don’t add up. Not in this way.

 

Because I’m constantly giving and taking away from who I am—

Giving into demands,

Giving up on my plans,

Taking on image after image hoping that they will fit me,

But this is not living.

 

I need to be comfortable in my own skin, so I am choosing myself this time.

I choose to listen to folky tunes blaring from my stereos, no headphones 

 

I choose the place with country food, like cornbread and tomatoes from home.

 

I choose to continue to write down my experiences and speak with honesty,

Connecting my wants and dreams with no apologies.

 

I choose to love the person I can be when no one else  is watching,

 

And I choose to break down each piece I took on in hopes that someone would accept me.

 

I choose to be.

 

I’m scared of the thought of someone seeing me, but it scares me more to lose myself completely, 

So I will stop and listen to the voice inside of me—

 

I choose me.

Suffocating

This isn’t what I asked for.

I asked for freedom and confidence to open my hands and catch promises,

But I feel crushed by a suffocating loneliness that bids me to go to bed.

My eyes close and I let the darkness fall in on all sides,

because I realize I am afraid of myself.

I am not content with sitting up at night, listening to music,

Writing in a bed made for one person.

There’s this empty space beside me, cold and unloving,

Reminding me of a time when it was filled.

Now I’m filled to the brim with emotions,

Holding my face in my hands,

Wishing he was here to listen.

But I am quick to forget how it felt when he listened.

He listened to speak,

So he could tell me the image he wanted my body to portray.

He pulled me into his world and eclipsed mine in a blanket of

Black and white devoid of any of the color I created.

So I trade a warm body for solitude,

And tell myself I am strong, and I can be strong alone.