Poetry

Trying to hide from her

There is no before this. Maybe I wasn’t born this way but I have been since early childhood; tics ringing in my ears a thread of frayed neurons beaten hard against bricks and bones with tendon still clinging. Dear life bloody, trembling in hallways, checking doors, looking in closets. There is no way out of me. And even if there was, rationality is not it. I’m already rational. If I could be rational about this I’d be fine. 

It isn’t that I don’t try I try all day…

Have you not seen my selfies? I’ve even recorded my voice a few times, hoping I might hear what she hears… 

Your admonishments I have painted on. Be rational. Shame on you. Look what you’ve done. Dishonor. Commit. 

TAKE A COMPLIMENT. Liar. Lazy. Commit. Be positive. Stop thinking how you think. Just stop. Think differently.

Don’t argue. 

If I did these things you would love me, if I could be perfect or even just pretend I believed in myself for 30-45 minutes a day she’d find me charming.

I’d be the only one she’d ever loved. 

Instead I remember all the things expected and wanted and all the ways I’ve failed to measure up and I try to forget because I’m not supposed to think about those but if I never think of how I failed how can I remember to try to be perfect to earn all the love I haven’t yet earned… 

The fine caress of her eyes like a sea breeze yearning

His laugh 

I should do it, but I can’t. I hate thinking of it. But having failed so much and hurt so many it seems only right. It seems like the right thing to do. I keep telling myself it’s a cruel joke my mind is playing on me…

But the tears are real, aren’t they? 

And my bed is truly empty.

 

 

 

 

 

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