Existing

I’ve never belonged anywhere.

I’ve only existed in places.

Always surrounded by closed off spaces

That refused to yield to my presence.

Walls bearing recognizable faces.

Beguiling – I sought ways to enter.

And like loose change in a torn pocket

I got lost, ended up in places where

I was easily forgotten.

I seek hiding places now,

Crouching in corners,

Where I blend easily into shadow.

There is no place for me

Where I can simply be

And, in being, to belong.

My own skin sometimes

Feels artificial.

Swimming in fluid memories.

When trying to inject those memories fails

Sweat drenches my skin. Withdrawal is akin

To burning myself in the flames of yesterday.

The acid of memory is addictive.

I do not want to burn even if

My name might kiss the lips and singe the skin

For I will always be looking for ways in

As I try to force my way into yet another heart

That refuses to love me.

Peace & Love,

Rosalind