Confessions in Prose: 1. Fear

There was once a story about this boy I used to love waking up next to, who made my fears go away just by being in the room.

He’s dead.
Whether that be in my mind, or the sweet part of him really did sink into the ground.

All that’s left is the vacuum which I’m yet to fill,
The anger that I didn’t let myself have,
And the hurt,
Of big things but mostly many small things,
Of the ice that took his veins when I was weak and vulnerable,
And of the way I felt the Earth crush me when he found new love so quickly.

Loving is pain, don’t let anyone tell you different.
And when you’re young and you have nothing figured out,
It makes all the scary monsters go away.
Until it becomes them.

I’ve looked for someone new to fight them, to fix mess that’s in my memories,
To control the escape of the lava from the volcano that opens up every time he comes up in conversation. But what is escape?

I’ve been hurt, and I’ve been crazy,
But I’m the type of crazy who feels fear in that lonely path in the forest and walks ahead anyway.

And if that holds true, needing him is the greatest lie I ever told.
…myself anyway.


“Am I a storm to be quieted?”

Am I a storm to be quieted?
No, some of us need to scream.

I, I let you tape my mouth,
To prevent offense,
That came so easy with your prejudices.
Even after, I peeled it off,
For time I could not understand,
The new power I had gained.

Inch by inch,
I crawled back up to high ground
And found my voice again.
Here it echoes in the distance.
Though I wish you’d hear it,
It makes me content
That I’m doing something
You’d never understand.

(unpublished archive June 2015)