What parts of me do you like today
Today, where everything you say makes me laugh and my clothes show I tried but didn’t try too hard to look good for you Today, when we say goodbye and I pull you into me, wanting you, unafraid of feeling, so that you do not have to feel at all. And you do not have to be afraid
of losing power to feeling.
Which parts will you like of me tomorrow
When I am boring because you do not make me laugh
When I do not look good for you or anyone
When I am tired of pulling
When I am only ever unhappy
And when some days, no matter what you say, I will not want you.
I will not even want myself.
Which parts will you like of me
Do they only look like the parts that belong to you
When my things began creeping at the foot of my bed
I started keeping things by my pillow
And when I stepped off my bed the books I hadn’t read were stacked to my knees the letters friends had written me poked out underneath
My medals hung off the side of the wardrobe with the rosaries I kept in case I should believe
The rows of bottles I used to sustain myself collect dust
Half-checked to-do lists lie in wait
With this many fresh starts, my head begs for clear endings,
not the ambiguity of things, but the clarity of nothingness.
The day I emptied everything out I thought my house would look different
Thought if I expelled things and people that did not feel mine
I would be free
In the end all it is is space
And what if it never fills again
What if all that is left are walls