I wonder if I'd feel something for myself if someone did too. It's the scariest thought I have
that even in love I will never.
It's selfish to ask that you
show me the best of me?
From your eyes
If I could be seen like that.
If I asked softly,
would you let me?
could I touch you if I asked?
If I had asked
Tell me quickly.
I am running out of spaces to fill.
I feel like all the places I've called home are at an awfully far distance now and
My hands don't fit anywhere as they should
-
Am I here with you?
And the more I withdraw, I withdraw
am I away from you?
Do you consider me home still?
am I sorry for you?
and maybe If I don't reach
I won't have to touch your answer
Better if we drift
without it being said,
without a touch of thought
without needing to know
YOU ARE READING
Untitled Anthology for the 20 somethings
PoetryMoulding myself into something I'm not. a love letter to all the sweetly gorey things and afflictions that are a part of being a young adult like love, insecurities and vulnerability in 15 parts. Image: "Connected, Communicating" Noah Kocher.
