sexypotato19

I am scared for the day when the walls we built against the darkness crumble beneath the weight of day - to be illuminated by the sun in such a way that the illusion fades the magic of the night sets with the moon and the stones of my fortress falter, that i will be exposed to that blackness, the void, the swallower of my hope and the vanquisher of my light. I pray that the demons never come knocking and when they do, my silence fools them just as the noise has fooled me into believing that each knock is the beat of my heart and there is nothing to fear but my own mind.

And of all people, why did I have to fall for you? You are a storm; chaotic, dangerous, and terribly beautiful. You thundered into my life, striking my heart and setting fire to my soul. You are the madness haunting my thoughts, the impulses I have always resisted, and the excitement that has been stifled by this mundane existence for far too long. You kissed me and I died, and when you took my hand, you restored a life in me that I haven’t felt in years. You inspire me, but you are ever so perilous; your chaos and my chaos are the same. I am so afraid of losing you to your wind and your rain and your thunder. I am so terrified that the

I suppose I’m so afraid of opening up to anyone because I don’t want them to see all the broken, shattered pieces of my heart. Ive tried desperately to paste it all back together, but when I met you, you broke it open again and now I’m all out of glue and I feel terrible asking other people if I can borrow some of their tape because I know they can only spare so much. I don’t know what it was about you, but you opened my chest and crawled inside, never looking back and no matter how much I fought you, you persisted. I thought I’d built my walls up high enough to keep everyone out, but you scaled them like a chain

How dare you believe I am worth something? That my scars can be healed, that my rage can subside? That my eyes can be rid of tears and my mind can be mended? How dare you try to pull me from my darkness, try to eradicate this disease of my heart? How dare you make me feel again, breathe again, live again? Who are you to hold me tight and tell me it will be okay? How dare you love me and believe I am worth so much more than this affliction?

My God, my God, I feel like I’m dying. I’ve rid myself of the pit, but the illness still remains. My body feels like its falling apart; my mind convinced of my sickness. I feel every twinge, check the glands on my neck, search for aches in my head. The doctors say that the pain in my chest has nothing to do with my heart. The emptiness beneath my ribs has nothing to do with my lungs.

I spent all day trying to write you a poem with pretty words and delicate phrases that would weave itself into your heart and there it would stay like my grandmother’s old quilt at the end of my bed; warm, lovely and a little old fashioned but the words were hiding in the           cracks in my heart, too shy to expose themselves so you’ll have to wait one more day