Maybe

Caught in a whirlwind of “what if”s and “maybe”s

                there are a million

                    different people I could be.

my closet’s stock piled with masks

I’ve learned to wear better than skin.

   no one is close to knowing

and it terrifies me.

there is so much honesty left here,

so many things I want to say, but the

words are dying far too swiftly.

by spending all this time faking

the line between reality is blurring quickly.

 

I wish I could change it.

somehow start acting like a normal

19 year old chica who doesn’t

worry about anything.

 

 

I am dreading winter.

wringing my hands of blood

with worry over winter.

The onset of flu season reminds me

of the powers of pneumonia, the sound

that your lungs make as they rip

themselves apart trying to inhale again.

And once more, I realize that I may not

be ready to face this alone again. Every

year there has been someone, a boy of sorts

to lean on. but I am preparing to go

at these 4 months of could-be deaths

alone. I have to be stronger than your illness.

But, I don’t know if I am yet.

in the back of my mind,

                I’m doing an inventory of sorts.

Counting the ways I can prepare for you to die.

finding out more about

myself, as I try to become numb to it.

 

Dear lord, I am not ready to be this old yet.

Reviews

[kaycee]

"by spending all this time faking
the line between reality is blurring quickly."
don't i know this...

and i loved the line "I am dreading winter." So small, so powerful.

I also liked the contrast between saying you're 19 and the final line. Lovely poem.