diamond heart

you've frequently wished to
crack the beautiful,
messy enigma you've
happened to
grow so fond of. 

i, being the
fool i am for
any man who
gives me pretty words
and seems interested
beyond our
physical desires,
have promised to
grant you the
insight you seek. 

i am aware that
slow and steady
wins the race and
i read all the tales on
the tortoise beating
the hare as a child,
but i have never
been one for anything
slow.
allow me to
do the work for you. 

i tried starting with
the easy,
what you already know.
it's a waste of words and
time is precious. 
it is better to
face the storm now than
wait for it to hit later. 

i am dreadfully afraid.
it's anyones guess of what.
my own shadow, 
any fish that looks
too much like a shark,
a drop of blood. 

more likely though it's
the statistical probability of
how hopelessly irrelevant i 
will be, 
leaving no trace behind that
i was here.
that i mattered. 

or perhaps it's being too
self-aware, knowing my
foolish arrogance and how 
great i hype myself up to be.
how it can only cave in on me.
transforming me into a
disappointment to myself or,
what's even worse,
anyone who put faith in me. 

it's most likely the
anxiety, at least that's
what i'm told. 
i ignore them though because
the little voice in the
back of my mind is 
far more convincing as she
taunts me, 
reminding me i can't and
that i won't. 

she's relentless,
never hesitating to 
remind me that everyone,
even strangers,
sees me as too fat or
too thin. 
i don't know why i 
buy into her lies. 
it doesn't help that
my eyes are allied with her.
every time i 
glance in a mirror i see
a bag of useless bones or
a whale, beached and bloated.

that's the hard stuff and
i'd rather not get into that,
it requires the word i
don't yet know
how to say. 
i'd much rather stick with
something simple like 
how i hate every emotion i've
ever unfortunately felt. 

i admit, i love
hearing the why and
learning the hows of
what other people are
feeling. their minds, 
their experiences
fascinate me. 
so perhaps its ironic that
i can sit here and be
afraid of my own. 

but my dear, it's for a
good reason, i promise.
i don't have to cope with
the aftermaths of their
breakthroughs and 
deal with what they've
learnt about themselves.
i'm forced to 
work through mine.
it's too depressing.
i'd much rather
bury it in anywhere i can find,
forgetting about where it is and
never dealing with it again. 

that's not very healthy,
believe me i'm aware. 
but it's the only thing i 
really know how to do. 

now, this is the part where
i'm supposed to 
list out all my flaws and
state how my only 
redeeming quality is
my love for you.
i've lied enough in
my life and,
at the very least,
i want to be
honest with you. 

it's not what 
redeems me,
makes me worthy of
love or compassion or
anything else we're all
deserving of. 
but, when i am
awake at night and
only able to 
list my flaws,
it certainly helps. 

i love you, god
do i love you. 
i could write you a
myriad of beautifully
terrible sonnets about
how your eyes compare to
shimmering topaz.

perhaps i could 
write you into the
male lead of any
romance movie of
your choice, 
even if it's one 
yet to be written.

i could and
i would do all this
if it would make you
smile. i'd prefer to
keep it simple and
plainly state 
i love you and
hope that will suffice.