It's exhausting...
Being two people at once.
The person who holds love at her fingertips
who lives each day for a better tomorrow
who believes, with her entire heart
that people are good and strong, and beautiful
And the person unable to feel it.
Who believes that tomorrow will never come
That can't see past all the evil,
and the death,
and the broken.
I'm the person who lives and breathes
the words on a page;
who longs to meet these characters
my brain conjured up.
The ones who hold me
until I feel safe...
But I'm also the person terrified
of getting them wrong.
Of their flaws, of their desires.
I'm terrified that they're a reflection of me,
and I'm nowhere near perfect.
That underneath their safety and security
they hold my evil,
the evil even I don't know I own.
I'm terrified of being wrong.
Of lighting a candle at both ends
and using each to start a fire;
one which is sure to engulf me
piece by piece
until I'm nothing more than a burn
and a bit of wax, a braided string.
What if I'm a stain
on the fabric of our earth.
On the hands of my family,
my friends.
I'm trying to hold myself together,
I am.
I've lit the candle.
I'm taking deep breaths.
It's balancing, holding.
Yet one tilt is all it'll take,
a sad drip of wax,
to come crashing right down.
And I'll be sitting under it when it does.
YOU ARE READING
A Perpetual Existence: A Collected Work of Poems and Verse
PoetryHi, I'm Juliana. What you see here is every poem I've ever written (minus a few drafts that I don't feel comfortable posting). Thus, some of them are gems (see An Arbor to the Moon, The Quiet, or Hamster), and others I fully understand if you read t...
