don't lose your glasses.

i admit i am a brutally broken girl.
my days too often follow such mornings
that most certainly followed such nights
and though i am past pasts
the pasts contain things you wouldn't imagine,
and aren't as far away as i would like.

take me at face value,
for usually it is all i will let you have.
and i will cry at that fact,
that you will never understand what i feel,
but it's not because you don't want to,
it's because i don't want to.....understand.
DEAR GOD! i feel hands and mouths, i feel hate.
are the hands mine? no, but the hate is.
contained in a place that is only mine,
that i may cradle it and hate myself in peace.

such shames i bear! and though i am comforted
in knowing you carry them as well,
i am not convinced that i am alright.
memories take the shape of serpents,
and crawl through my eyes....
and every open hole that you can see.

i hope you never see clearly through your rose colored glasses,
for then you would see my true hues,
and you would love me,
and i am scared of love! and i am scared of loving!
and if such came to be you would see all of me,
and know all of me, and i you....
and we would weep...and we would love.

(originally written Aug. 2008)