It terrifies me to think
I can get so close,
finally be in sync,
have a moment of repose…
Only to have you become a stranger again.
So please leave me at the library;
an unchecked book.
I can make myself invisible,
until I’m something you overlook.
It’s been ages since I’ve let someone
fully read through my pages.
An author, or perhaps my own adversary,
for assuming I will always be temporary.
I write myself out of existence;
before there is doubt, there is distance.
Until I’ve swam so far out into the sea,
not even the waves can quite reach me.
My spine is sewn by the emotions
that couldn’t be noted.
Each word is an ocean,
but I’ve never floated.
So I drown myself into my own story,
I grasp for air, but now I feel lonely.
Tongue-stained with insecurities,
I have chapters of excuses just to avoid
a potential hurt I’ve always known.
Until one day I manage to have fully destroyed
all my support, and I’m on my own.