I’m caught within time.
I’m caught between two lives.
The face I portray to the world, and you.
The face I give when it’s just me.
When I look in the mirror.
That you won’t like what I have to say.
That you won’t like what I feel.
That you may find me too sensitive or to passionate.
That I may not be enough.
Of course I could mold for you.
See the instant dislike and become whoever you desire.
But I fear I may lose my heart in the process.
No one understands me.
I’m not sure who I am.
I’m not sure you’ll like who you really see.
I’m not sure I can freely be me.
My heart hurts.
My chest burns.
I have no relief.
I can’t seem to see straight.
The weight of the world is on my shoulders.
I have no relief.
I can’t tell the truth.
It won’t set me free.
My body is tired.
I know no other option.
I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I don’t know what I hope to accomplish with this.
Maybe my pain can give someone else comfort.
A moment of bliss.
My truth is I cannot tell it.
I hate myself.
I hate my thoughts.
My wants, and desires, and hope,
It’s been stripped from me.
Yet I have to be strong.
I cry at night and in the dark.
So that in the day I’m light and full of false snark.
You left me for a while.
But you came back.
Moving like a runningback.
I have no slack.
I can’t believe what you’ve made me feel.
What I’ve written,
What you’ve made me do.
I still haven’t truly processed what you’ve made me do.
My heart was broken.
I want you in too many ways.
I can’t say no though.
It’s not good for me.
This is a drug.
But I have to take another hit.
Just once more.
Then I promise I’ll go.
Promets juste que tu-
It’s in the words.
This dream confused me.
For the life of me, I can’t let it be.
Our stomachs pressed together.
Dur et doux.
Why would that stick out to me?
Why should I be turned on by your stomach against my own?
My heart was racing, thighs and panties wet,
Ready to be your pet.
It was then I paid attention.
You whispered words in my ear.
Nonsensical, fast, slow, words.
With every word you spoke,
My mouth watered.
My skin pulsed.
My eyes dilated.
I wish I could remember the words you said to me.
I wish I could hold them close for the lonely nights.
I wish I could carry them with me like I do my sight.
It was the words.
It’s one thing to say something.
Another thing to mean it.
What would it take?
For you to put it all at stake?
My dream was you gave me you.
But now I know that it’s not true.
In more ways than one.
I stand here in the night,
Waiting for that light.
That effervescent, unavoidable feeling,
That would explain this clear ceiling.
That’s been wheeling, stealing, taking all my feelings.
I’ve spent too much time kneeling.
My thoughts are jumbled.
I don’t know what to feel.
I want to say more,
But I’m not sure.
If I stay, I might become a bore.
I’d rather not be mentally sore.
No, I’d rather feel like folklore.
Unattainable, with a touch of womanly intrigue and lure.
You made it.
You reached that point in your life,
Where you’re done with the worry and strife.
You wished things stayed the same,
Not realizing that it was nothing but a game.
Gone are the days of blasting music from a busted car,
even though you remember those warm crazy nights from afar.
You did things that you now laugh about.
You danced until your feet throbbed.
You fell in love until you sobbed.
You made mistakes,
Which often ended in backaches.
Mais tu as grandi.
You’re no longer that bright-eyed pup.
Breathe in the fresh air,
Ignore the dare,
And take care.
Laugh at the ones before you,
Sit down and watch them stew,
While you catch a breath and take a brew.
Welcome to womanhood.
I looked up,
And you were there.
I tried to speak,
But you shook your head.
I stepped back.
You walked forward.
“I went too far,” you said.
“I took too much,” you pled.
“I should’ve tried,” you shouted.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to fight.
Anything but feel this.
This burning in my chest.
This racing heart.
“I lost myself along the way with you,” I spoke quietly.
I walked forward.
You stepped back.
You tried to speak,
But I shook my head.
“No. It’s my turn to speak.”
I can feel a change coming over me.
I’ve said this before.
I battle with a lot.
This other part of me.
This double life I’m living.
Beautiful one day,
Wrecked the next.
Nothing is enough.
Nothing satisfies me.
There is no limit.
Yeah, you read it correctly.
I’m only saying what other people are thinking.
Of what others are feeling.
What lies within all of us.
What we are afraid to let out.
What’s the worst that could happen?
I’m like the rest of you.
I’m the coward that pretends to be appalled,
Secretly marveling at the tales being spun.
Does that make me a deviant?
Tu pourrais être rude c’est ce que je veux
Look at me.
An absolute mess because of my thoughts centering you.