You will forever be the grey-green ocean
on that cool and cloudy morning,
agitated and stormy and risky,
a bite in the air.
I am terrified of intimacy,
of laying my soul bare to someone.
To have someone know me so completely
my thoughts are practically their own.
I have no trouble listening to others' secrets
their desires and wishes
nor do I have trouble sharing what I'd like
the world to know.
But to have someone look deep into my eyes
and know my weaknesses
the shames of my past
--I just don't think
I can give someone
of destroying me like that.
keeping this guard up.
But the only alternative
is to let them
stab me in the heart
with a blade through my back.
"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" men ask me,
as if there must be something wrong
with a pretty woman being single.
"I'm independent," I tell them,
when what I really want to say
"Why do men constantly cheat on their partners?"
"Why do my friends' boyfriends flirt with me when we're alone?"
"Why do men constantly degrade women in their speech?"
"Why do you think you can sleep with me because you bought me a drink?"
THAT'S what I want to say;
the real reason I don't have a boyfriend.
Because I've been taught time
and time and time again
throughtout my entire life
that men are dogs
and women are the bones they
think they deserve.
I have to remind myself on a daily basis
that I am hard now
un-succumbing to the charms of the opposite sex.
I've known for a while how deep my mistrust goes
--but I have to keep telling myself
it's for the best.
My spirit longs to love again
to feel that carefree oxytocin
running through my synapses like
an electric current.
But my battered heart
in denial of any sort of feeling,
and my brain takes the reins,
steering my spirit clear
of any idiotic choices
it may decide to make.
Because once you've been injured as deeply as I
there is no way of becoming whole again.
The trust I once so lovingly showed--
so mercilessly shattered--
will never have all its pieces
perfectly sewn back together
Trust becomes brittle
the more you give of it.
Because the more you give of it
the more corroded it becomes.
Play the game
but never be fooled--
they may treat you like the all-star
but you are just another base
for them to
Strive to be the ball:
The one they are after
the thing they're all chasing.
But once they have you,
they don't have you for long.
But they always
want you back.
I have a recurring nightmare
where I meet you on the city sidewalk
one random day five years from now,
and when your eyes meet mine,
they are blank,
devoid of any recognition
of the history we have.
I wake up in a feverish sweat,
the sound of your pleasant,
echoing in my ears.
And I don't know
if it's a nightmare--
or a dream.
Sometimes, ya just gotta let the emotions out.