1.22.18 | 22/30

22/30, National Poetry Month, 30/30 Challenge
It's not National Poetry Month, nor does January have 30 days, but it's worth a shot.
Thank you to my inspiration for this.

-

what you carry

internal damage
burning through
plush, pink organs
and external white ink
laced down
birch tree arms.
duffel bags filled
with words left
unsaid,
left to be continuously
carried around
and never unpacked.
I hold onto a lot
of things,
just as tightly as
lost loves once
held onto me.
I flinch
at the thought of
another person touching
me sometimes.
I want love, but I don't
know how to ask for it,
I don't want to beg for it
anymore.
But if I don't ask,
I'll never receive.
The fear of going on
so loveless paralyzes me
into another dimension
where love does not exist.
Can I break my heart
any more than those who
have already broken it?
I don't have
a clear space
in my life to put
everything down,
there is a constant mess
surrounding me,
I'm more of a mess
than a person at all.
so I carry the words,
conversations, people,
places, screenshots,
pictures, and feelings
with me, because really,
what else is there to do?