fill my lamps with oil

when did i stop dreaming? like really dreaming. like, thinking of six impossible things before breakfast, dreaming? why am i so afraid to get what i need. to say what i mean all the time. i want to ask silly questions without answers. and let my heart love who it does. without torturing myself for what that love is not. be satisfied.

...............................

my irrational anger at the sound of your voice speaks volumes to me. you hurt me without knowing it. you hurt me, because i let you. and you're never any wiser. and i wish i knew what you are thinking when you stare. do you have a library full of words for me too? do you despise your own tongue for it's inability to move? am i beautiful to you? you've said so before. maybe not. perhaps i am convenient. or frustrating. or both. if i let you touch me would you leave? i hope you took me seriously when i said what i said between sips.

will you ever want to give me what you wanted to give me then, ever again?

...............................

i've discovered that it's nearly impossible to be a 24-year-old girl. woman. what?

when that sound

comes
comes in from the outside
it makes me think of souls
flying up into the air
letting go
breaking loose
of their rigid bodies
their tired minds
and it makes me ache
and it makes me happy
and it makes me sink
deep into thought
and wandering dreams
and i know that i am lonely
that i don't fit my own skin
but at least i am aware
of the cocoon around me
and i'm ready to spread my wings