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I don’t know whether
to be ashamed more
because I’m weak
or because I’m strong
so unable to hide my heart
so ridiculously juvenile
with love,
by how much I can do
by how little I can be
that I can take
the world by storm
and still drown
in my own power

because some mornings I wake up
with my emptiness missing
wondering if I’ve
turned invincible
reigning in a coolness
that I am unable,
or unwilling
to disguise
undaunted by the hurt
I can inflict on so many

but then by noon I
double-step back and
my sense of oppression takes over
and I become, again
a catastrophe upon myself
in an instant,
a walking need
a paragraph on co-dependency
a fourteen-chapter novel on tears

then all evening I am just
counting the losses
trying to repair the damage

because I can do nothing
in moderation
every time I train my spirit
for docile patience
my feisty mind skids
into indifference
every time I steer myself
into eloquent honesty
I am consumed in a conflagration
of raw and unbridled passion
because I can’t leave the fire alone
until I am sooted up in ashes
until I am ashes

gentleness is lost to me
I am prone to addiction
I am vindictive
my curiosity has no bounds
I push emotion to its limits
or I kill it

if you knew I was this ugly
can you still love me?

untitled photo from De Vetpan Studios