What would it look like to be someone else?
who did not wake up red-eyed and fearful?
what would it feel like to be held and words said & meant
to be turned gently in the measure of another’s gaze
would it feel good or unnatural?
by now, like an ill-planted tree, I have bent at an angle to accommodate
the lack
It may be, I don’t want the dream anymore
but something that keeps cold from the hole in my side
so when you tell me
don’t fall in love with me, I am imperfect
so much is wrong with me, if only you knew
if you saw the real me, you would be scared off
when you tell me
the first time I saw you, I was in awe
I couldn’t reveal how much I liked you with nothing to offer in return
I ask you to consider this
I am a tree growing at an angle
because nobody bothered to set me straight and tall
in more ways than one I am bent
and crooked, slightly deformed and full of holes
that let in the cold
sometimes I am a woman who looks in the mirror and sees
every cruel word inscribed on her face
like inch worms or tattooists needle cutting off circulation
every betrayal, a brand burning my attempts
every lie, a drowning, of my ability to breathe
other days I am a girl who runs
for buses in heals and mini skirts
and the boys they shout after that person
because she is a parody and an apparition
as much as she is flesh and blood and nobody they’d want
but I’m the same no matter what mask I choose
I’m the girl who cries and then answers the door smiling
I’m the girl who has become so good at hiding
she hasn’t been found in a very long time
I give far more than I take
because I don’t know how to feel worthy either
so believe me when I say
I know your fear and part of why
you shy away from me, even as your eyes say
oh how I would like to spend a day a night
laughing and smiling in your company
but I am not a cult leader
I can’t convince you, you have to see it for yourself
I am a simple person flayed by life, other people and winter wind
cutting through our best intentions
I try to be grateful, mindful, all the things
we’re told to be
but just as often as I succeed, I fail
I wasn’t built for battles, I don’t know how
to compete the way others do
and if you think I won’t like you because
of any number of funny things
remember
they’re just things and any moment
they could be gone as we could
because life comes and snatches back
just when you think you have time
but what is left
what remains when the table is cleared
are two people
with suitcases of fear pouring out
we are sitting as the light fades in surround
talking despite ourselves
for some part of each of us, wants the other
recognizes a connection
and knows
the only way in this life is to risk all or none
there are no in-betweens
you cannot find love by wishing or digging
both of us have been burned and stung and hammered
by the lies of people and trust is a faraway concept
but until they switch us off and we lay fallow
impregnating earth with our dissolve
I say we try for our chance, however long we’ve got
not let the fear put us off
even as you swore you’d never again
even as I promised I wouldn’t go there
somehow here we sit
staring at the other
seeing everything we want
in the imperfection and
the wonder
this is beautiful. i love the imagery. i understand being a tree bent trying to find some sun ❤
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May your true self shine through the mirror as it does through your words
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Wonderful and so lovely and beautiful.
By the way i like the bend tree ❤️
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so so so amazing Candice. I run out of descriptors for your writing..
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