My Little Work of Soul

I’m dead " but just on the inside.

My skin still blushes and my fingers still move

but my eyes no longer twinkle when I smile

because my face isn’t quite sure who she is smiling for

and you were the cause of the crack in my identity

the cause of all my uncertainty

the reason why when I sit in front of my computer

or

at my desk before the paper full of scribbles and scratches

that somehow you were able to process.

The reason why, that when I stand before this crowd

I am bleeding out loud

YOUR NAME.

and yet I somehow still am unable to say the phrase.

 

You’ve left me lacking core emotions.

Like anger, grief, joy, and disdain

all I am now is a vacant vessel

walking aimlessly

with a name.

 

Why can’t I hide the trauma going on inside?

Sometimes all the thoughts,

they feel like maggots "

like little parasites  "

creating Hallow Caverns throughout my mind.

Other times,

It’s like a battle field,

all these Thoughts raging war inside my head.

And when all this reckless decimation has ceased

all I can find are memories,

memories that have a taste of iron and rust

and beauty, if beauty had a flavor.

Sometimes when I think back to those times,

I feel like I can reach into space and grab the memory

and throw myself back into it

back into a time where you and I could talk about anything that was on our minds

there was no need for lies or alibis

it was just you and me

no mystery

 

And then I remember,

that this was just a memory.

You are no longer here.

and

Does that mean that I am no longer me?

Can I no longer think about what’s on my mind?

Think about time and our ability to alter reality.

Like what if we could grow trees on leaves

and make sweet honey out of nothing but what we got in our coat pockets!

and what if, what if, what if,

you never left.

What if we had progressed and became King and Queen of our own Utopia

made of candy and cardboard boxes

where no one but the majestic and lyrical could inhabit.

 

And now you’re back,

making all those 11:11 wishes

and all those 7:11 wishes

because 7/11 is my birthday and is just as magical as 11:11

come true

and

I don’t know what I should do.

Without you I could not function

but

with you I am permanently left confused.

 

And I hope you understand that,

Trust is something I do not

just hand out.

My trust is not candy on Halloween "

not everyone who comes to my door gets a Piece.

But with you it was instantaneous.

I gave you more than trust.

I gave you my whole being.

I gift wrapped it and everything,

with a bow and a name tag so that

when you looked back on this day you could say:

“She trusted me,”

And what did you do with my box,

with my trust,

with my being,

with my soul?

You threw it out,

tossed it off,

like I didn’t even matter at all.

 

Did you even care when I cracked

when I broke my back

just trying to support all your emotional slack.

Did it even cross your mind that

I might not be fine?

Was I even a thought to you at all during those months?

Or was I just another annoying girl

who wouldn’t give up on her lost dream.

 

My point,

I promise I have one,

is:

How I am supposed to know if I can trust you this time,

give you my being,

my soul.

When I ask if you care and are going to keep caring

your response is:

“I don’t know, I don’t even care about myself,”

How am I supposed to react?

What am I supposed to do?

What kind of wrapping paper should I use?

 

But in the end,

does your answer even matter?

Aren’t I still standing here "

with a box full of soul,

wrapped up just for you. 

Name tag and all.

Author's Note

I am hoping to preform this slam poem soon.
Note that this poem is ten times better when it is preformed because its easier to hear and feel the rhythm and emotions. However, I would love to hear your input. Ways to improve my writing and such. Thanks a bundle !