Poetry

Tug of War

There is a boy who tells me he loves me,
and I swore I’ll never say it back.
As he pulls apart lillies – she loves me, she loves me not –
I pull on a fraying rope,
that tries to drag me across oceans,
tearing at my palms pale skin. I’m bleeding.
I can’t feel it.
I can’t feel anything.
Where did this negative correlation
between relationships and happiness come from?
How did it originate when it has always existed?
I’m numb to the relationships that surround me
to possibilty, opportunity and a foreign word called hope.
See,they keep knocking on my fortified walls
banging, pounding, pulsing through my mind.
They won’t leave me alone, Curiosity and Question
I exist for another because I can never be me,
these secrets kept behind my sewn lips.
Let me hear that I am loved, wanted and needed.
I’m trying to hold on to this hope,
but it’s slipping, I’m losing grip
of this metaphorical rope and reality.
So when Unhappiness arrives at my front door again,
I know I will invite it in.

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3 thoughts on “Tug of War

  1. Oh wow this is really moving. That numb feeling, I know all too well. Let go of that if you can, or it will only escalate “hm, she’s dead. Shouldn’t I be feeling something?”. Sigh.

    Liked by 1 person

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