A Turbulent Mind

simple confusion

Are the knives ready?

My skin is pulsing and tight; 

ready for the stinging slice 

of another heartbreak,

Of another blow. 

One of that like the angel

that rested on glass...

Whose wings you ripped off - 

Leaving her mutated and bro-

ken? Knives 

wouldn't have hurt her,

like they don't hurt me.

Wound me - give me

something to focus on. 

How many times can i re-phrase

the same woes?

Step back, don't touch me.

I'm healing...the collogen

is stil forming in the gaps - 

not love.

Don't press yourself against me,

the lacerations might bleed all over you.

Space. Give me space

to push everyone away again.

Force the words you want from my lips;

imagine it all and 

tell yourself it's enough.

It's not enough. 

Because when your hands slide

around me I am invaded,

muy skin curdles as your fingers 

probe. Don't.

My heart murmurs desires weakly

as my head chokes them! 

it doesn't matter, I feel them...

see them.

When his glare shows no warmth

and his hands don't reach out - 

yet you brood over him!

Addicted - love.

I whisper promises that I'll help.

I don't want to unless I'm removing 

layers of material, barricades 

from that body in need of love. 

If I could be with you I'd have tasted 

every molecule of your lips... But 

then they would no longer exist.

Desire... Confusion... I don't know. 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

love can do this to us...we just get addicted to someone, lose them and bleed for and over them...

and then we want that "space to push everyone away"--

i was at this point for many years...the pushing away of others...didn't want my heart touched...