Monday, March 2, 2015

Weary



The feeling of our skin melting into one another has passed
To warm stone pressed firmly together.
Suddenly painfully aware that I've lost the ability to embody sexy,
Shifted into grey
Nervous
Slate.
His body is so warm and I curl into it to keep out the cold,
To discourage that relentless winter.
Despite our struggles.
But there are human needs
And mine has become one of being ever disappearing
Into the crook of his shoulder where I might hide in comforting solitude.

I just want things to be like they were...
Instead of like looking at the world from behind silent plate glass...

Paper anviled eyes
The fluttering of anxious heart beats
Deep breath.
You're fine.

"It is well..."

It's okay to feel this way.

"With my soul..."

Circular
Reasoning

I looked at photos of girls who were prettier than me
And made to-do lists on yellow memo paper.
A textbook on assessment opened and shut.
Pace to the kitchen, trash still not taken out.
Dog panting from treading the weary back and forth with me.

"It is well (it is well) 
With my soul (with my soul.)"

"I have to get out of here."
The thought is accompanied by quick beats of my heart.
Teeth gritted
Hands tighten and twist on the barbell.
"You're fine.  You're safe."
I can feel the slight biting pull of the the textured metal on my fresh callous layer.
"It's only a mild anxiety attack."
But I don't get them...

In.
Out.

In.
Out.

Squeeze.

You can tell yourself a lot of lies before it really starts to matter.

"Please just hold me..."

I wish I could just hide in the crook of his body forever.
In an eternal bed time
Where I wasn't desperately searching home depression remedies
And wondering how I could look better,
be smarter, sleep longer.
I wish I didnt feel this way...

It's not well
With my soul...