Titans Hand

I feel myself crumbling

By force

Of a weight that feels like a titans hand

By a burden I’ve given myself

I am atlas.

I watch myself

In the mirror

And there’s questions in my eyes

I am too embarrassed to answer

Even when I’m alone

I’m insincere.

I cry.

A haunting low wail.

Quiet enough to mean something

Not loud enough to share.

I hold my knees as tight as I can

This is how I keep it together.

Gypsophilia

I keep my eyes closed when I think about you.

So maybe I’ll wake up and the reason my heart beats this fast will be because of a dream.

Because you’ve chased me with a knife made of stories I’ve told you.

And you know it’ll cut me

Deep.

Cause you still haunt me.

So you chase me until we’re exhausted

and I try to reason with you

I shield the wrong part of myself

I’ve fallen in the garden we’ve made together in spring

Nothing has grown in months

Except for these white flowers that brides hold.

But I wake up

And it still hurts.

I shouldn’t have given you that knife