Will I ever love?
Will I ever be enough?
Will I ever overcome this constant fear,
This fear, of being loved but never really known?
What will become of this cover-
This cover, which I have so intricately woven,
In hopes that my scars would stay hidden forever
This cover, that somebody has now willingly chosen.
“Why?”, I asked, for I could not believe I had something worth loving in me
“What do you know about my woven skin?
What do you know about my heart which lies scattered in bits-
What do you know about this tongue of mine-
This tongue, that does not hesitate to spew poison all the damn time?”
My scars started burning, itching and bleeding, all over again
My heart was heavy, despite being empty
My mind started flooding with this sudden rain
Was this rain supposed to nurture me-
Or was it meant to let my soul drain?
For yes, even though I badly want to be loved,
To be admired, to be adored-
My heart refuses to accept any form of affection,
For it had never happened before, so I was prepared-
To be alone and to be lost.
And now, troubled, my heart weeps
“I could have all that I seek,
But what if my scars get exposed and my pathetic reality is seen-
What if their hearts develop hatred for me, within?”
And so I sit, waiting for this rain to stop, and I know it will stop-
For no rain lasts forever.
And when it does,
My heart will once more be the barren ground that it has always been,
A Land with no flowers, no grass and no streams-
A land where love will never be seen.
-del
Will I ever let someone read the poems written along the veins of my heart?
Or will I forever hide them due to the fear of not being what I always pretended to be?
Damnn, that physically hurt