Perhaps I prefer a layer of abstraction to my words because they feel like pins breaking through the veins
poking out at odd angles
painful but embarrassing
painful but then you’ll notice me and hiding is easier when it’s a storm and not me that’s crying

perhaps it’s easier because these words are only sometimes mine and other times are the unbroken scream that lives in my chest and stops just short of my throat because men don’t break down and cry
because everything has to be in control or she might not love me
because sleep eludes me and screams at 3am will bring sirens and questions

Perhaps I just need to be distant because weaing the razorblade straight jacket no longer fits
but its thin slices fit so easily into my scars
who would know the difference

perhaps I’m just tried and tired of being vulnerable and need that distance to lie to myself a little bit longer
a lie I’m not allowed to speak to others so I tell them to myself.

“I am loved” I say when I mean I want to die.
I am loved, when I mean why doesn’t she see me
I am loved when I mean Why can’t I just say what I mean?

Love is my lie, it keeps me going, keeps me moving

Hiding in the cracks of my own abstraction