you are a house
thoughts like the sandpaper that shaped you
words like the wind what shakes you
eyes are the window to the soul
and your eyes are the door
you are my home.
TRIGGER WARNING. There is always something that eats away at me when I think of you. Feelings flood into me like a summer rain. Is this enough? What am I supposed to say? Is this going to be right? What if I say the wrong things? I am inadequate, to you and others. As I used to preach self-love, confidence. I thought it didn't matter what people said or thought because I was living for me. Pushing the reactions of words lurching from stranger's throats down to the very pit of my stomach. The pit was never deep enough. Filled with chips and dips, sweet cakes, sodas. C'MON, I'M THIRSTY OVER HERE. There was no more room for feelings. Comforts are not a strength I have within me. I spit out words of hatred and violence, because as before- I do not practice what I preach. "Problematic" humor and silence hiding everything that may lurk inside of me. I do not know myself. How am I supposed to be ready to love if I am not ready to break the barrier within me
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