Stranded.
Stranger.
Damaged.
Ashamed.
But not afraid.
Looking away in shame.
With action of misfortune.
But held gutting harsh truth
You cannot hold, what was never placed in your hand.
So ashamed.
I lay naked in bed.
Stripped bear.
Bleeding cold tears.
Still wishing I could be in another.
With your scent left to linger on my skin.
Leaving me in a misery set exstacy.
By just sheets on a bed.
Entranced by what came in my sight.
But not my foresight.
I know who I am.
Is that even true?
Because when I see me, I dream of you.
I always hold my tongue,
But never seem to give writing any ease.
Will I be forgiven?
Or shall I be forsaken?
It was never my place.
To fall and expect you to catch me in this.
It was never my place.
To choose you as the star in my play.
Shinning you as a star, I believe you are.
But never did I ever.
Have any right.
To project any expectation onto you from my own desire.
Maybe that’s why I feel so ashamed.
Lost in skin.
Faded in foolishness.
Until I can managed to tear these roots that have dug so deep into me.
Until this manifestation gives ease.
I will continue to breathe.
So I can set them free, and allow this to simply just be.
Without holding onto a mirror that can never be.
So I choose to breathe. Release. And allow this to just be.
To just be.