I've written your story

I want to open up your scalp, see what kind of thoughts you form that make you capable of being so selfish while drawing so many people in.

I want to dissect your heart and confirm that it is filled with confetti rather than blood
or love
or life
or feeling.

Have you ever felt for someone what they have felt for you?

I want to take apart the puzzle pieces of your spine and show your eyes that you are not the enigma you think you are.

You are not lost,
hurt,
confused.

You are special, yes, but in the way that we all are.

You are a human. Take away the
sex,
gender,
identity.

You are you, looking into my eyes,
pretending I can never understand how complicated you are.

I want to open up the canals in your ears, build dams to help the flooding. Have you ever heard your lovers tell you they feel, too?
No.
You have always been too busy pretending to be dark,
hurt,
confused.

I want to separate your lips, point your face towards a lamp.
Once the moths fly out of your throat, I will ask you to speak to me.
Have you ever felt for a person?

No,

Not quivered for a person, but cared, hurt, ached
for them?
for me?
no,

how could you?

Your guts, your thoughts, your very pupils have been straining to ensure that everyone finds you mysterious.

I don’t find you mysterious.

You are always cold because you are a
cold
person.

You feel alone because you
push
too
hard.

Enjoy the sex
the “love” you find.

But YOU SHOULD KNOW
that there are many of us, lurking in your shadows,
reaching out for your thin fingers,
still trying,
inexplicably,
to give you the friendship,
the “love” we offered one too many times.

-H