all of a sudden two decades have past and I still have not kissed anyone, or had a 3am conversation with someone who would rather look into my eyes for ten minutes straight than talk. I've never worn a lovers sweater or "forgotten" it at home in my room just so I would have an excuse to see them again. I have never even stood face to face with someone who makes my hands shake so hard it feels like they're both having a separate anxiety attack.
I have so much guilt and self-blame and sadness but above all, an overwhelming curiosity. Am I really that ugly, that unwanted, that uninteresting, that boring, that no one, absolutely no one, has ever looked at me like I'm the only thing on earth?
At times I feel so lonely I could stand at the edge of a cliff with nothing beneath me but air and grass and a long, long way down, and I'd feel emptier than that canyon itself. I even dance with myself alone in my room, arms outstretched around a ghost, pretending someone else's hands were on my waist, someone else's eyes boring into mine.
Or maybe I even fall temporarily in love with strangers in public, fell in love with anyone who so much as accidentally brushed my hand on the way past. For me, falling in love with dozens of people a day is a coping mechanism for not having anyone to love me in return. but people aren't eggs and falling in love with a dozen of them does not mean my shell will remain uncracked. One day I am going to hit a point where I am so desperate for human contact that I am going to snap in half and all my love will bleed out like egg yolk.
YOU ARE READING
unspoken words
Poetryonly a fraction of what goes on inside my head. most of it probably won't make sense because getting thoughts down on paper is nearly impossible
