i wear you on my sleeve,
because you are all of my emotions
i’ve told you to leave,
but you just won’t listen.
but i wouldn’t want you to either,
you make me feel alive.
alive in a way that haunts me at night.
when i can’t sleep until i’ve thought of you at least a billion times.
truly, these feelings should not be crawling in my brain.
but they are.
i don’t understand how some people
do not feel as deeply as i.
every infliction, fluctuation, nervous touch upon my heart,
seeps into my being and is circulated throughout my veins.
this is not what pathetic looks like.
this is not what weak looks like.
this is what a burning heart looks like
and how lungs filled with crisp, piercing air inhale
and then exhale.
this is life.
i am so alive.
it is my responsibility to teach
my parents what their parents
neglected to tell them or didn’t know themselves.
i hardly have a rhyme scheme
for my poetry
because i feel like it
pushes thoughts into superficial forms.
it may sound good to the reader,
but it’s no longer flesh from my bones.
it’s neatly put into a row or stacked into a pattern
but skeletons don’t put themselves together,
they fall into a random, scrambled, beautiful, mess.
i always walk swiftly passed your
i can’t stand to be evaluated by those
darting between my face and my body, something tells me you’re not interested in my intellect.
you never speak,
you just watch and then continue with whatever had your attention before i walked swiftly by.
i remember your face,
if you are not suffocating,
you are afloat only by the constant churning of your belly.
let me go.
don’t let me go all the way.