I Have Always Been Small. I Have Always Been Little And Quiet And Unseen. I Have Always Done What I'm

I think too much about the stars

I rub the blanket across my cheek, trying to ground myself.

I feel your skin instead burning and intrusive. Grating on me.

I feel like I'm floating. I'm off in a dream.

Experiencing horrors I've already seen.

My breathing is heavy. I try not to scream.

I scrub at my skin. It never gets clean.

I'm still the same size as I have always been. it's just the world that's gotten so much smaller than I knew. so small that I can't really see the details anymore. it's all out of focus.

I'm good for love

A fertile plot for it to claim. It springs to life under my feet. It drips and curls down from my fingertips. Its roots in my every thought.

I love colors and sunsets. White fluffy clouds. Boys and girls. Friends and strangers. The texture of cotton. Hot steam and cool stream water. Eyes and arms and noses. Hands and hearts and shoulders. Fresh baby kittens and sun-soaked kitchens. Me and you and them.

Love grows up my arms like new grass sprouts. Tangles around my ankles like thorny vines. Grows thick in my chest like moss. It's suffacating

I'm good for love but love isn't good for me.

Here among the stars and brine

The souls sing and weep

Trying not in vain to lure a sailor from his sleep

They call it seduction, heavy and sweet

But is it a trap if they give you that for which your heart beats?

I don't consider myself particularly religious.

But I think I might understand why rural areas are so full of superstition.

Not out of an antiquated idea of ignorance.

But because if you've ever seen dawn bleed red into the dying breath of a bright white night, then you'd know God too.

Matter cannot be created or destroyed.

that's the rule of the universe.

You've always existed in some way.

and no matter how many times you get blown apart;

The gravity of your atoms will drag you back together.

Tearing your self apart is futile.

It's nuclear fission.

You only salt the earth in your despair.

Tear open the black hole just for the gravity well to drag you under.

The only escape is expansion.

Everything about you scares me; I guess that's why I'm here.

Name me not Cassandra

Name me not Cassandra for my voice it must be heard.

Even if you bind my mouth with fabric and brush away my word.

I claim not a higher wisdom for vanity or spite.

Only a point of view from far below your height.

I am cursed with the experience of an unwelcome hand.

And through this lens I now see my sister who too have been touched by man.

You may turn and shield your ears from me, laugh away my proof

But my mouth, it will not waver in telling you the truth.

Name me not Cassandra for your Helen is on her way.

She brings chaos and together we as women will make you pay.

Sometimes I feel it behind my eyes. Like a pressure. Just reminding me that it's there. An acknowledgement.

But rarely does it bloom into that sad wet thing.

Running hot down my cheeks.

I've never been someone who cries much.

But then again I've never had much to cry about.

Just never had much.

Crying over nothing. The lack. The absence never made sense to me.

There is a feeling. A sadness. But no tears.

I wish. God I wish.

You'd give me something to cry about.

Wanna feel that release.