Nit picking, zit popping, trembling, spontaneous, frivolous, flirting with lust, but never the horror, of trying to trust
angry red lines, hide behind long sleeves, no matter the weather, always, always, contemplating, everything and everyone,
I sit and stare, blankly, hoping that one day, I won't have, all this in my head, I implore, when won't I feel this anymore?
A broken smile, an ironic laugh, it seems like disaster, will arrive after today,
wish they knew, none of this, anxiety, is him, or her, or anyone at all, no one's fault,
Used to keep it, tucked beneath my belt, a master at miming, but internally, dying, hiding, secrets, mine to keep,
little white lies disguised, as divulging, only to cover and bury, finally numb, unsated, haunted, by the memory of a memory, of feeling, with out bleeding, on everyone.