Self-Illusion

**Disclaimer** This is not a hate poem. This is an expression of a personal struggle in my life. **End Disclaimer**

Lesbian imitation.
There's a complete lack of self-motivation,
Built, instead, and filled with self-degradation.

I am not a person.
I am a machine,
bent on my own self-destruction.

I touch her
In the night when no places are secret.
I am a woman without limitation,
but take a look at all the other children!
They open their Bibles with much
Anticipation.
And I glance at that book in my hand,
can only shudder,
while thinking of all the condemnation.

Who can I speak to?
Who will listen?
... Anyone might listen,
but can they really
hear?
Hear me without judgement,
And without permanent eyes of disapproval?

And this is not the first time,
No, I've been down this road before...
Long ago
With a face that never goes
unseen for long
And a name never forgotten.

In my highschool hallways
Called a dyke
Coals raked... over fire.
And the awkward eye-contact,
no words to be spoken,
Only body language that screamed... that hoped...

"Please don't bring it up, pretend,
Please pretend it never happened!

Oh, how broken...

Remorse.
Remorse is ugly.
Remorse is a roommate who pays no rent,
It sleeps on your couch,
Eats your food,
Litters your carpet with its leftovers,
And won't ever offer to clean up after itself.
In the end, Remorse leaves you with nothing.

And now focus
Focus in on this second time.
This second girl.
This second mistake
In my later years, am I really all that much wiser?
Kissing the lips of Temptation,
Stroking chests of lamentations,
Touching... touching... touching.

Where have I come to?
What is this place?
And why do I seem to stay here?

Is there anyone out there?
In the dark, just beyond my reaching finger tips?
Will anyone help me find the doorway out?

How do we recover from here?
How do I begin to pick up the shattered pieces
of my confidence?
Morality and decency
they knock, knock, knock on my door
Only to be ignored.

Left them standing in the rain,
I offered no hospitality.
Remorse has shamed me,
I live ashamed
My home in shambles
But who's to blame?
None but me.

Content I am, to live in this mess
With my sin running rampant.
Their lies,
Their secrets
alight on my neck like spiders
and they weave their webs
Clouding my inner self.
My sanctuary.
My safe place.
Infested. Damaged. Defiled.

Alenore.
A word that is supposed to stand
for who I am.
Rather, it is who I would like to become.
And she waits.
By His side
In the lonely night
And the cold, cold rain...
Wait.

I don't want to see her
And as I pull the curtains
She smiles and speaks...
I see her say,

"I'm okay."

His umbrella shelters them,
His arm rests on her shoulders,
And suddenly I'm glimpsing
Christ within.
And they're staying...
knock, knock, knocking
Forever and a day
And I see Him say...

"I love you."