I clinched my wrists I held my breath and told myself, I, I can do this, I can handle this – on my own, My breath exasperatingly coordinating as I spoke out, into myself I am happy, and I love myself, however unbelieving a lie that sounded to me My density of my steps increased as I walked further, Have you ever felt like, heavy? Like your sensitive, vulnerable parts being manhandled and unclaimed? Irresponsibly left on the streets begging for a quarter or two? Like a drowning mammal wallowing in a sea of excruciating pain, Asking for an impartial gaze, someone I could tell, “let go of me, I can’t any longer”… How long could I hold onto my feelings on my heaving chest? Those that rang and rang, and reached post office that was safely unopened, Those that carried the whiff of how I really felt The way my eyes sensed when it looked back at me in the mirror, The stones in my gut begin to rot, cooking up a pungent storm that I now, couldn’t fathom Creating a fuss about how much it drained me, heaping onto dense layers of submerged belief And courteously whispering into me stating that was my worth – I disbelievingly, but smilingly approved. Like a laboriously embroidered pardah that couldn’t uplift itself Like the lingering feel of the fungus on a juicy fruit, Digging its way to the bottom while infusing a smoldering lava that I was well versed with, We met during the mornings when I couldn’t put myself to sleep, Or while oiling the cracks of the hazy stretch marks of my soul, How could I ever string up mere words for you to encounter what I endure? What truly truly hurt me, tore me, squashed me – remember the inner me? The me that always adjusted to a situation and said it was OK when it wasn’t? The me that hid behind the curtain of my thoughts and cringed as someone began to come closer, let alone embracing me – as me, The me that ran further away from me once someone left me lurching, Urging them to stay, at least for a little while longer… But only if i(t) wasn’t a trouble, please?