Tag Archives: fear

what it’s not

Her fingers trace the lines on his skin, each graze a silent prayer for it to sink into his skin so deeply she becomes a part of the ink.

She hopes when he looks at his own skin all he sees is her. When his eyes find those marks, she hopes all he can feel are her fingers over them.

No one ever told her it’s okay to be alone.

Her breath clings to her throat and she doesn’t realize she’s stopped breathing. That exhale comes and makes her heart race and she swears it’s him.

No one ever told her she doesn’t need anyone.

Her own arms find their way around her and she can feel him missing from her. Words press against her lips although she knows she doesn’t know what they mean.

Because how can this be love when it makes you fear the empty space he’s not in?

Yet still they beg for their release.

No one ever taught her what love is.


Melancholy Love

You whisper your prayers into my skin like I’m the god you stopped believing in. I can only hold you tightly and hope that whatever you want is meant to be.

You have your beliefs, and I have mine, but I’m not so stubborn as to think I have to be right. Or you have to be wrong.

Love drips from every word I speak in your direction but I find my lips numb far too often. My tongue twists in knots and I overfill in the form of tears. Frustration sets in and I hope you know I’m not mad at you.

The heart in my chest rages on like the seas and the storm in my blood never settles. My glass skin feels much too like ice and I’m sorry I always come off so cold. I haven’t found a fire warm enough to melt me. I don’t know how to shed this armor.

I feel you growing restless and I feel you toss and turn at night. My arm only reaches out when you’ve left the bed and I’m sorry I’m afraid of the pulse in my veins.

I’ve got apologies falling from my head and filling up the empty spaces around me, but I don’t know how to explain them to you. I both need to, and can’t, let you know how I feel. But I can’t seem to let go of this fear.

My mind conjures up monsters that hide in the shadows and sometimes they look like you. It’s not you that makes me flinch, it’s the shadow that feigns you instead. I just have yet to spot the differences.

Too Little

My voice holds fast
afraid to say something wrong
and break the perfect silence

Your voice rushes
wanting to say absolutely everything
yet still saying nothing

We are matched in the pointlessness
of our words, unused
or otherwise because we can’t say
how many times we picture our hands
sliding perfectly together

My silence speaks just as loudly
as the words you leave out
because I can’t say just how many times
I think about kissing you
and you can only tell me everything
that means absolutely nothing

Always keep your shoes on your feet

he tells you he loves you
and it sounds so foreign
coming from his lips

you’re not quite sure
what to make of it
the way your hands
suddenly don’t know what to do,
the way your mouth goes dry

his words land on your ears
and your brain tries so hard to comprehend
the way your heart starts to dance,
the new lump in your throat

the walls are cool
in comparison to his skin
and you’re not quite sure
which sounds better,
which might soothe

so you run,
like you always do
and the water on your cheeks
is a surprise,
much like the way something feels
so wrong, so much like a mistake

you think of his skin
you think of the walls
you think of the direction you’re running
and you try not to think about
the sudden ache in your chest

The Fear

We curl around each other, too afraid of letting go. The silence stings like glass cutting our skin so we turn the dial up and blast whatever sound that comes on just loud enough to fill the emptiness with anything but silence.

Our hands grip as tightly as they can around anyone else’s just to feel the connection because we feel so far away from everyone. It’s scary how connected our phones make us, while also keeping us so far away. 

I always thought the dark was terrifying. I thought monsters and my imagination were the scariest things out there. Now as I grow older, the scariest thing is how alone you can feel in a crowded room. How alone you can feel when you’re by yourself with no one to reach out to, even if you wanted to. Even if you built the courage to reach out. 

And it scary when you can put out there how terrified you are of this loneliness, and the only thing you get back in return are comments on a screen or a button pushed. 

Because don’t we deserve more than just a button pushed?

1500 Miles – Give or Take

I was so scared, when you picked me up from the airport and you kissed me, that I’d spend the rest of my time down there being awkward because there was nothing to it. No spark, no flame, no feeling.

I didn’t even think about the alternative.
Now, miles and miles away, I replay every second with you. I didn’t know to be scared of falling for you when afterward we would still be so far away.
Now I’m trying to keep my heart together while it’s trying to unravel itself in the desperate wanting it has for you.
It’s sort of like trying to hold on to water.
And right now it’s slipping through my fingers.


The thing about making someone your home is when they decide you take up too much space. You leave too much gray on the walls. They stop thinking your watercolor emotions are beautiful and your skin no longer feels like love to them. And suddenly they show you the door and you don’t know where to go because they were it.

No matter how tightly you can wrap your arms around yourself, it will still never feel like them. No matter how much you try to keep your colors from the walls, it will never look like them. And no matter how many times you repeat your feelings into the empty pillow beside yours, it will never resound back like them.

Your bed became mine. Your smile became mine. Your hands and your lips and your skin. I can reclaim what I gave up for you to be mine, but when my smile, my hands, my lips, and my skin heal – they will scar. I will look like you until I mesh myself with another and grow to their shape. Then that risk will be ominously present and maybe I won’t hold them the same way. Maybe I won’t kiss or laugh or look at them the same way.

Then I will think, I’ve lost a home once, I can do it again – this time with less loss.

And maybe I will never love the same.