Sometimes I feel like no one can ever truly love me.
So when someone finally does, it’s like…
Well then, you must be the only one
And I must latch on to you before you realize that the sun has gone.
And as if the shades have been drawn,
Darkness has overcome, and that’s what was won.
But actually, it’s ‘who’ because the darkness is me.
Perhaps my mind has been brewed like coffee beans,
Because I believe that I’m screwed so up
That down looks like freedom.
It feels like it make sense, so when you say you love me
It’s like… are you sure?
Sometimes I feel like I’ll never let anyone truly love me.
The words sound so foreign when they tumble out of your mouth.
Doing kickstands and cartwheels, backhand springs of,
“You’re so beautiful”, hand stands based on “I’ll never leave you,”
Looking for the twinkle in my eyes as your tongue dances
While you reveal your love to I…
Am so messed up that I can’t even believe you.
It’s not you, it’s me and the thoughts that won’t let me breathe.
The ones that suffocate me with threads of hate, weaved
So intricately that even those of Ariadne couldn’t compete.
I try to resurface each time you open your mouth,
Each time I look into your eyes and the corners of your mouth raise up
With brightness and hope that perhaps…
But the thoughts…
The persistence of this self-deprecation is much too strong
For your words laced with beauty.
They outnumber the “I love you’s”
That are seemingly dipped in diamonds and jewelry.
They rise up with vengeance and armor to combat your devotion to me.
So… again, I drown.
Again, I fall.
Again, I believe that you are just speaking.
That you are just trying to trap me into believing
That you, a person, a whole other soul could actually love me.
Now you’re just being mean.
I don’t believe you because I don’t believe me
When I say that I love someone like I…
Who is so messed up.
Screwed so up that my vision of freedom
Has now become distorted.
A.N. – This is more so a spoken word piece so while reading, the flow may feel off. Try to take pauses as you go along and allow the seemingly misuse of sentence structure be an element of poetry used at my whim.