Guilt is an awful gnawing thing that relentlessly eats at you.
And mine had become a painfully persistent parasite, rapidly growing as it fed off of my secrets and shame.
Devouring my lies almost as quickly
as my lies were devouring me.
Tag: Me
Twice
I don't want to write pretty words.
I don't want to write words that are read once and left to sit politely on a shelf.
I don't want to write about the sky and the birds and the flowers that are just too pristine and perfect to be plucked.
I want to release the madness from my head.
I want my pain, my fears, and my ugliness to exist as words so beautiful that they earn their right to be read twice.
Alive
My birth certificate has an error.
My life truly started nearly thirty years after the date that was printed on that paper.
It took almost three full decades to finally feel alive and all I had to do was accept myself.
All I had to do was stop lying.
Still
He knows everything
and he still loves me.
He knows everything
and he is still here.
Enabler
You were my enabler.
You provoked and praised
the most pitiful, pathetic
parts of me.
Letting go of you meant more
than letting go of bad habits.
It meant escaping a version of myself
that I never desired to know.
Affirmations
The serene words
stamped and secured
to my tea sachet
cannot console me.
The ink of the inspirationalaffirmation sits ignored,
wet and blurred by either
tears or condensation.
Which one I do not know.
Burdens
We are strangers, you and I.
Two people only aware
of one another's existence.
Yet I am desperate to tell you
my most awful secrets...
My most shameful
silent sufferings.
Would you like to hear them?
Would you like to help me
carry my burdens?
Disconnected
Your number is still in my phone,
yet I know I'll never call.
At this point it's simply an area code
and seven digits held between a couple
little dashes.
That's all it is.
A series of symbols secured to a dead line.
Yet I still refuse delete it.
I still cannot let you go.
Purgatory
You are my purgatory,
a perfect medium between
heaven and hell.
I crave your warmth,
yet I fear it just as much.
Woven
Eventually her string of lies
became hard for even her to follow.
She couldn't remember what she had said,
who she told what, or what was believed between whom.
She had woven a web
without an apparent end.
The truth hidden somewhere
between a single fiber.
AO Poetry 
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