A Poet's Bleeding Heart🖤📜🪶

 The fact that I wrote this after sitting parked in the grocery store parking lot for 2 hours.. because i simply couldn't function until I purged how I truly felt about your accidental, "almost" betrayal. 

Sorry to say "almost" is still too close for my blood. 

Warning Bells 

Sometimes,

I genuinely think that there is something inside my head that isn't wired correctly. Perhaps in the same way that it seems nearly impossible to exist in a way that feels comfortable for me. I can't seem to do what others do. 

I can not simply look away just because it's unpleasant.

I can not simply ignore it just because it causes discomfort. 

I can not simply pretend that I am well just to make the interaction smooth.

I can not simply pretend my heart didn't stop when you clenched your fists.

I can not simply gloss over the fact I could have adorned beautiful purple flowers across my eyes and lips. 

I watched your hands close.

My eyes were wide open. 

I watched your mouth shut.

My body unleashed an unholy flood of ice into my viens. 

I watched my own fear streak my face, reflected in the whites of your eyes as you snarled at me.

I felt my heart slam shut so ferociously the rattling in my bones still makes my teeth chatter as I write this.

You looked at me with disgust and spit venom so slick and putrid that I could nearly feel it like acid eating into my skin. 

How am I suppose to look away from that?

How do I pretend the person who promised to protect me is also now the person who forced me to flee for protection from the same hands that held my face when I cried?  

Couldn't you see my face? Did you see me cry? Didn't you hear my panic inside? My eyes must have said it, my lips were surely frozen. 

"Wait, it's me!" 

I wanted to say it. Because suddenly it felt vital to remind you. I looked at you as if I had never seen you before, and I saw the face of a florist in bloom. You would have made a beautiful bouquet of my jaw and nose. The most beautiful flowers, arranged with... love? 

No. 

No.

I do not want your violent flowers. 

I don't want a love that makes me tiptoe across the more well behaved of the floorboards.. just incase you wake to ask why I linger in the night, you always make me feel so guilty for following the call of moonlight.

You never remember how much I just love to gaze at the moon and stars.. probably because you never bothered to share the view with me..  you only ever reminded me of the time.

I don't want a love that makes me flinch when I ask if you are feeling well, simply because you can't be bothered to entertain my silly little care for you.

How dare I express concern for the love I held so close? I should have been more considerate. I should know better than to pester you with my attention. 

I only ever wanted to be loved as deeply and truly as I crave to love those around me.. I want to know every tiny particle of you. Every single one is sacred and wholly special because each molecule is purely you. I wish to see every single one up close and admire the craftsmanship of such a delicate treasure: a magic beyond any and all else, it is the magic that makes you,

YOU. 

But you scold me when I let my eyes linger too long, trying so hard to count each one of your lashes before you blink and make me lose count again.. I didnt mind starting over.. it meant I could look a little longer, but you hated being "scrutinized".

So, I agreed I wouldn't look as closely, if only to keep you comfortable. 

You wanted to give me a beautiful bouquet, in honor of your truest love for me in that moment.

I must now politely decline. 

I have never enjoyed watching such beautiful hues of blues and berry wither to putrid greens and gold.

Flowers always wither.

It is a gift that never gives.

I could have sworn I mentioned that to you before, but...

I guess you must have simply

forgotten.