I have your name set on “do not disturb”
I said that I would block you
but I didn’t have the courage
For Something in me
wants to know you try
to reach me
Despite me
Pushing you away
Something in me
Wants you to stay
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@katyejaneadventures
I have your name set on “do not disturb”
I said that I would block you
but I didn’t have the courage
For Something in me
wants to know you try
to reach me
Despite me
Pushing you away
Something in me
Wants you to stay
I’ve killed part of myself
To keep another part alive
You’ve got to understand
The blood on my hands
Is just me trying to survive.
I want to be able to dance
Without relying on your heart for the beat
I want to be able to sing
Without relying on your mind for a melody
I want to come to the realization that I am my own symphony full well, an entire orchestral piece not yet scored
I’ve never really been interested in being alive.
When I say that what I mean is sometimes when I go out and look at the sky and see that vast blue curving toward earth I feel so small and insignificant and have this out of body experience where nothing really seems to matter so why try.
What i mean is growing up I would catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and not know the face looking back at mw and how frightening it was as a child always accompanied by a complete stranger in my reflection.
What i mean is that the first time a boy grazed his hand up my leg, before the word “assault” was even in my dictionary, I felt dirty in my own skin, and have tried to scrub myself clean ever since.
Yesterday he made a joke about rape.
I was infuriated.
I demanded an explanation for his callous and gave reference to my trauma and he said he didn’t need to hear any of that.
Couldn’t I just take a joke?
A tidal wave of vengeance and of accountability rose up into my throat and before it was unleashed I swallowed it. Choking on the sound of all the women who have been told they couldn’t answer no. And couldn’t take a joke.
Yesterday he said he had a bad day.
I responded with “that sucks”
He was annoyed.
Couldn’t I care more? Couldn’t I be sensitive to the fact that you are hurting because your pain is my responsibility. Couldn’t i be considerate to the pain your body goes through? Couldn’t I probe and hear your heart? Couldn’t I try to pick of the pieces of your shattered heart and apologize that you were flung for a moment into darkness?
I wonder what it must be like.
To have the privilege to experience annoyance in the face of apathy instead of fear.
I feel as though my true self is always playing hide and seek.
She is only allowed to come out of hiding when my parents are not home.
She, hides behind pronouns and verbs and ancient ideas of what womanhood should be, do, and say.
She always gets caught sneaking in the back door.
I was always taught the only way to make someone love you is to make your true self disappear.
I long to be loved.
So She is finally the poem I will not allow myself to write.
I want to believe you
I want to believe you when you say this time it will be different, with you it will be different.
But you smell too much like my past.
Too much like burnt out cigarettes and dirt and a garden and a slap in the face when I am not all the things you wanted.
Too much like lust without love and a house falling apart and a mutt of a dog that we love even though it is ugly.
You smell too much like drinking alcohol in the morning because I can’t cope with the idea of staying or leaving and my therapists office.
But my god, I want to believe you.
Crown Molding
I knew stepping in that I was not made for you.
You were crown molding and crystal doorknobs and eloquent words that I did not know the meaning of.
I waltzed into your original hardwood floors and tracked mud with my not so white converse and i realized how extremely out of place my dirty poetry was amidst your crisp clean linens.
My breath somehow degraded your existence. Like your stature became less standing next to me. And I knew.
I was not made for you.
Fixer Upper
I am a fixer upper.
What I mean is I am a house that is not quite yet a home.
The thing inside my rib cage creaks like old wooden stares. Trodden over one too many times by something far too heavy.
And you’re nervous when you walk there because it might not support your weight.
There is dirt in every crevice, that you will scrub until you’re knuckles bleed and wonder why it is not clean yet.
The bricks must be rebuilt slowly by soft and loving hands to tear down and replace without the entire structure collapsing under the strain of this renovation, or the healing. My body is a foundation that Is damaged and it must be loved back into being whole.
When I Say I Love You
When I say I love you
I mean that you feel like tomato soup and grilled cheese that your mom makes on cold winter days, and you don’t know that it’s all you can afford anyways
When I say I love you
I mean that in the way the ocean kisses the sand and pulls it deeper into itself with every wave the two becoming one while remaining distinct
When I say I love you
I mean you are new ink hitting skin and the needle is painful and exciting and it is permanent, good decision or bad. Whether I regret it later or not.
When I say I love you
I mean that i have thought this through and the infinite galaxy of knowing you will be worth it when all the stars burn out
Trust
I am longing for what’s real
To actually believe
The truth of who you are
And who you’ve made me to be
I am a broken offering
That doesn’t truly see
The wonder of your sacrifice or what it even means
I’m losing my grip on grace but even in this darkness I will sing
Your precious blood is what covers the chasm of my unbelief.
Where you are is in the seeking
That’s where earth and heaven meet
I don’t see the end of the story but
Even in the doubt
I choose to trust you now.
Fire
I never knew I was flammable until you came near me with that spark; and all of the sudden the world was on fire, blazing orange, red, blue. Everything turned to ash in a matter of moments and the only thing left standing whole was you.
Soul, Mind, Heart
What you did not realize is that if souls where water mine was ice and it was ready to freeze you to the core.
What you did not realize was that if my mind were words it would be an endless poem comprised of universe, a black hole you would no doubt lose yourself in.
What you did not realize is that if hearts where structures mine would be a hotel, exciting and fun to explore, nice to visit, but no one wants to live there.
I want to understand myself.
I want to understand myself.
I want to understand myself.
One Day
One day you will wake up and it will be easier to put your feet onto the cold wooden floor. You will breathe in the morning and not dread the light.
One day you will catch a glance of your majesty in glass as you step into the shower and you will marvel at the complexity and beauty of your being.
One day you will be able to pour coffee into mug and not think of his dark eyes.
One day you will pull the knife along toast and as you wipe down either side of blade red jam falling you will not imagine the feeling of that cold steel being pulled against your own skin.
One day you will be able to love without completely swallowing the other person, and without completely losing yourself.
One day you will wake up and a ring will sit on your left hand, fourth finger, and you will wake up to the sound of small feet that were born to you, by you.
And you will no longer be haunted.
No longer afraid.
One day you will write sonnets instead of suicide notes, and the dreams that have wilted and rotted in your mind will not grow back but they will burn to ash and reform into something beautiful you could never have imagined.
In return
I set myself on fire to make sure your hands stayed warm.
I tore this ink from my skin so that you could have words.
I picked myself apart piece by piece so that you could build your house with the rubble.
I have uncreated myself a million times and built myself back into an image you preferred.
All I ever wanted was you to love me in return.
Mirror Image
Why is it so hard for you to look at me?
Is it because I am you?
You bore me, and now I bare you;
in ways you cannot even fathom.
I do.
I have the curve of your hips,
Your hair, your nose, your glory.
I have your fear, your lust for love,
Your ever present anxiety.
My scars reflect your own.
Every good thing I know
From you I learned.
And every demon that I fight
were first yours.
I am you.
Mirror reflection.
Blood of your blood.
And it frightens you to the core
to look into the glass
Because you know yourself too well.