I know, love.

A Poem by Alexa

Everything spilling out in your fist and
I'm daring myself to say I think you like the color choice.
You'd think after all this time I'd learned to lie to my face
and I'd pick up the pace and I'd quit picking daisies
'cause after every turn followed by a negative response
I've come accustomed to failing, and that putting my soul into
anything and thinking it will be returned is a lost cause in itself.
You'd think I'd learn to bottle it up and let it explode
and refill it with the F**k You's and the Go To Hell's and the
Why'd You Have to Ruin Me's and Why Don't You Love Me's and
go on and on like some sort of F*****g Up Your Self Esteem bottling corporation.
But I take a big breath and I sit on my feet,
and I get used to feeling like all my limbs are asleep,
because isn't that life? Getting by and counting skid marks on the street,
from running red lights and speeding off when they turn green.
Why should I love or lust or feel passionate
if what lives must die and up go down and right go left
in no substantional order or any significant meaning,
with no holes that I can loop or points that I can dance around?

Honestly?
You're asking me for the truth.

I don't give a f**k if I'm not supposed to care
or if I'm supposed to get run down and walked upon
and soul stomped and curb checked and look like a door mat.
I don't look anything like a door mat and until I
cover myself in a carpet material and paint "Welcome" across it I won't.
Somewhere under the pressure I grew a spine
and it wasn't dull or plain it was multi-colored and it knew
tone of voice and a faltering eye and a lingering look
not just hard bone and nerves and neurons.
I'll be soft and I will smile and goddamn if I have to
I will go to hell with my soul sold to every item
without a heart on this Earth because I'm too tired,
too tired to give up, too hope-filled to fail anymore
and it would honestly be too exhausting not to
fill a million balloons with my love and send you
to new heights with it, and show you what it's like
to feel more than just skin and curves
and I'll teach you patience and I'll teach you
how to help yourself and I will give you everything you want
if you just turn to me and ask because if anyone
I know what it's like to be wrong and dumb and bruised
and to wake up not sure if you would really like to see the sun.
I know, love. I know.