Tag: Writing

Open arms 

Sometimes I wonder if he hated me only because I saw behind his mask. I saw the vulnerable sensitive parts of him and I was still OK with that. I loved those parts. I just wanted him to love them too.

He wanted me to fall in love only with his own delusions of what he wished he could be. He wanted fantasy over truth. But the truth was much more powerful and beautiful than any fantasy ever could be.

He was more than he believed, yet he could not allow himself out in the light for fear of being seen. What he didn’t realise was he was making himself less than, not more. I hope one day he finds his way home, into open arms.

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Unrequited Love

When you love someone but they can’t meet you, or maybe you can’t meet them where they need to be met. It’s one of the most frustrating, heartbreaking & sad human experiences to be had. All the wonderful potential just stagnant and waiting idle, treading water and holding one’s breath. You just wish for a miracle and for things to be returned not just temporarily but consistently and without measure. But all that happens instead is maladaptive coping tactics that try to hide the shame and anxiety of not feeling enough, or the confusion of not knowing what to feel, a push and pull game occurs. Love can be such an elusive thing in an age where people only wish to share highlight reels. But love is no game, yet many are merely players.

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What they see

People think they see me

But they don’t see anything that’s there

They miss my heart, my kindness

My soul as it lays bare

Physical form, it blinds some

It keeps away our true light

Distracts us from our purpose

Chasing fantasies into the night

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It’s OK

It’s ok to have a freckle on your face

As long as it’s in the perfect place

It’s ok to have curls

All wild and long

Streaming down, but never coming undone

It‘s ok to have some extra fat

As long as it’s placed where you guys want it at

It’s ok to work a medial job

As long as you don’t mind being called a bogan slob

It’s ok to be short

As long as you wish to not date

It’s ok to have small breasts

As long as you understand your unsexy fate

It’s ok to be very old

As long as you wish to be alone

It’s ok to be a poor man

As long as you wish to never own your home

It’s ok to be ill

It’s ok to be sick in the head

As long as you afford the drugs

But don’t expect sympathy lying in your bed

It’s ok to be many things

But mostly it’s just not

It’s always easier for the other

But if it’s you, it’s not

Try and think outside your space

Just consider another’s shoes

Would you really walk much further

Could you really choose?

Sometimes things are out of reach

No matter what we do

So be a little kinder dear

You’ve got nothing else to prove

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