~ hypervigilance ~

I wish someone would have told me that the effortless ability to indulge every fiber of my being into all of those that came my way- would leave me cauterizing my surging wounds.

I wonder if I still would have chosen to be the same temporary home.

Or to love I would have become immune.

Or if I would have chosen to tear the flesh off of the first person who did me wrong with bear hands and wear it over my skin.

Or if I would have so carefully sliced into their chest to grip their rotting heart.

While I watched the blood run down my arms and on to their face, as I tell them how everything about them is so perfectly placed.

But that would be too easy.

And honestly, quite a waste.

Because I’ve never understood the exchange of pain for just a taste.

I thought the search for love is why we were all put here in the first place.

To find lasting connection whilst spinning into space.

But, I guess that’s where I’ve went wrong.

Time, and time again.

Because through searching in the stars, valleys, one stop bars and tarot cards- all I’ve gained is hypervigilance.

The nagging in my brain to notice your every move and plug the timeless hurt with the moments you’re not pouring water on to my flame.

And wrapping my anxious thoughts in cellophane.

To save for later when you forget about the only time I ever ask for a favor.

As all of the hurt continues to pile on top of me but you’re too busy- or maybe you savor a variety of flavor.

Because one person who can carry your weight is too hard for you to digest.

But in all reality I just wanted the clarity so I could finally settle and begin rest.

Sometimes I wonder how long before I will finally burst.

And you’ll actually get to see me at my worst.

Not just an aching soul who wants to feel whole.

At some point pouring so much of my heart will have to start to take its toll.

Rumination becomes easier and comforting to a degree.

Especially when it’s the only thing that’s ever been there me.

Although, so has the gasoline and match I keep on my bed side.

To finally get my revenge for all of the times you found it easier to hide.

Waiting for the perfect moment to lather you and ignite the spark.

And stand outside and breathe in the fumes of your burning cells, that illuminate so perfectly in the dark.

But like I said, that could never be me.

But it doesn’t mean that on occasion I don’t think of how beautiful of a sight that would be.