I am just like her—
Trapped in a sea of white.
My mind is just as frayed—
My heart just as sliced.
By the glittering blades
That contrived all her words.
The letters of her thoughts,
Locked—in all her Mirth.
Her poetry—screams of Despair,
Lie there—lonely—on the shelf,
I can see the parallels
Between that tortured girl,
And myself.
I’ve always wondered
What it’s like to be myself
Openly and honest
And not hiding behind bookshelves
Waiting for someone to see
And let me into their heart.
A guy is knocking
My neighbor is doing Duolingo across the street,
He’s in his sixties learning a new language
And I’m just eating leftovers, watching him,
Wondering if he’s practicing French for his husband.
I don't think you're a waste of space,
I'll give you my room and my pillow
As long as you make the bed afterwards,
And close the windows to keep the rain out.
I don't think your not enough,
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