u/Wire-Spray1817

First grandson is due any day

Hold myself together,
I can barely do it.
Parts keep falling off
and I can no longer glue it.

I'm broken down
on the side of the road,
turns out the duct-tape repairs
were not up to code.

The engine still sputters,
the warning lights glow,
I've been saying, “It's fine,”
for ten thousand miles or so.

The glue never sticks,
no matter how you prove it.
You can show me that I'm loved,
but I'll see right through it.

Tell me that I'm worthy,
Ha! I seriously doubt it.
Hand me something beautiful,
I'll find what's wrong about it.

So let's patch another crack,
I'll somehow split beside it.
Give me somewhere safe to land,
But I'll spend the night outside it.

I'm tired of repairing
what keeps coming easily undone,
collecting all my old pieces
and pretending they're still one.

Maybe stop the fixing.
Just please let me lose it.
Stop trying I'm just broken.
and disconnected just passing through it.

Maybe I don't need my glue,
and maybe I can't prove it.
But maybe something good can stay
if I finally just need to let you do it.

I've tied myself again in a Gordian Knot,
with thoughts I thought that I probably should have not.
One thought went left,
another went right,
and somehow both thoughts are fighting each other
at three in the night.

I'm twisted like a pretzel,
all elbows and thought,
salted with my confusion
and baked in the knot.

King Gordius long ago, started this,
with an ox-cart and rope,
tied the damn thing to a post
and apparently gave up any hope.

Then came the prophecy:
“Untie this, young man,
and whoever succeeds
gets to rule all the land.”

Well, that's quite a reward
for untying some string.
I untangle my headphones everyday
and expect no such thing.

I try to tug at a feeling.
but It tightens in fear.
I pull on the past
and somehow again you're here.

Well, shit. You again....

I quickly loosen that loop,
but accidentally tighten another.
One thought about you
gets tangled in a bundle.

My heart brought some string.
My brain brought some rope.
Anxiety wandered in
just saying 'NOPE'.

Logic said, “Cut it!”
Emotion said, “NO WAIT!”
Impulse yelled, “TEXT THEM AGAIN!”
at quarter past eight.

Even Gordius is waiting staring.
And his ox looks concerned.
The prophecy has been amended with:
“This idiot will never learn.”

Then Alexander arrives,
all Great and whatnot,
takes one little look
at my untiable knot.

He doesn't ask questions.
Doesn't journal his heart.
Doesn't need seven hours
to pull it apart.

He draws out his sword and aims for my head.

WHACK.

Problem solved on the spot.
Alexander gets Asia.
I am left with half of a knot.

So now there's a meeting.
No one's in charge.
The problems are tiny.
The feelings are large.

Gordius has left.
The ox has been sold.
Alexander conquered Asia
and died before getting old.

And I'm still sitting here
with my thoughts overwrought,
twisted like a pretzel,
wondering how the hell I became a Gordian Knot.

I've tied myself again in a Gordian Knot,
with thoughts I thought that I probably should have not.
One thought went left,
another went right,
and somehow both thoughts are fighting each other
at three in the night.

I'm twisted like a pretzel,
all elbows and thought,
salted with my confusion
and baked in the knot.

King Gordius long ago, started this,
with an ox-cart and rope,
tied the damn thing to a post
and apparently gave up any hope.

Then came the prophecy:
“Untie this, young man,
and whoever succeeds
gets to rule all the land.”

Well, that's quite a reward
for untying some string.
I untangle my headphones everyday
and expect no such thing.

I try to tug at a feeling.
but It tightens in fear.
I pull on the past
and somehow again you're here.

Well, shit. You again....

I quickly loosen that loop,
but accidentally tighten another.
One thought about you
gets tangled in a bundle.

My heart brought some string.
My brain brought some rope.
Anxiety wandered in
just saying 'NOPE'.

Logic said, “Cut it!”
Emotion said, “NO WAIT!”
Impulse yelled, “TEXT THEM AGAIN!”
at quarter past eight.

Even Gordius is waiting staring.
And his ox looks concerned.
The prophecy has been amended with:
“This idiot will never learn.”

Then Alexander arrives,
all Great and whatnot,
takes one little look
at my untiable knot.

He doesn't ask questions.
Doesn't journal his heart.
Doesn't need seven hours
to pull it apart.

He draws out his sword and aims for my head.

WHACK.

Problem solved on the spot.
Alexander gets Asia.
I am left with half of a knot.

So now there's a meeting.
No one's in charge.
The problems are tiny.
The feelings are large.

Gordius has left.
The ox has been sold.
Alexander conquered Asia
and died before getting old.

And I'm still sitting here
with my thoughts overwrought,
twisted like a pretzel,
wondering how the hell I became a Gordian Knot.

My head says you better think.
My heart says it just matters how you feel.
But neither seems to know
what the hell is even real.

In my head I make goals and lists,
then promptly ignores every fact.
My heart sees danger ahead
and calls it daring romance.

Logic says think and wait.
My heart says 'now go!'.
I somehow choose
the a third option...  just no.

Then I change my mind
approximately once or twice,
I call impulse wisdom
and panic good advice.

My head wants the proof.
Ah, but my heart wants a sign.
So naturally, I spend hours
reading between an imaginary line.

My heart falls too quickly.
while my head builds a wall.
Then one screams, "Run!"
while the other screams, "Call!"

I over-analyze feelings
and feel through my thoughts,
turn simple decisions
to Gordian knots.

The sensible choice?
I find it much too late.
The passionate choice?
I crash right into the gate.

So head or heart?
I've tried both from the start.
Either one I choose,
Wasn't too smart.

Turns out I'm remarkably gifted
at thinking too much to feel,
feeling too much to think,
and trusting neither one is real.

Push me until I explode,
then pull me apart.
You will then realize
I'm no work of art.

Just a bad lump of clay
that won't hold its shape,
press here and I bend,
press there and I break.

I've taken the fingerprints
of everyone near,
some pressed in with love,
others pressed in with fear.

Break down the mirror,
don't handle with care.
Shatter the false faces
I've practiced in there.

Smash every version
I built just to fit,
the pieces of others
I've learned bit by bit.

I want instant answers.
No... I want years to decide.
I want someone beside me.
actually no, please step aside.

I want to be noticed.
I want to be missed.
I want to be wanted.
I can't get used to this.

I don't want to exist,
yet I'm desperate to love and live.
I want nothing from this world,
then I want all it can give.

Push me, then pull me,
I'm yes warped up in a no.
I'll beg you, “Come closer,”
then panic, “Please go.”

I've mirrored so many,
their moods and their ways,
worn pieces of people
for years, months, sometimes days.

Now mirrors confuse me.
Which face is truly my own?
Which parts did I borrow?
Which pieces have I grown?

So shatter that old mirror.
Let all false pieces fall.
Maybe I don't need
a reflection at all?

Maybe I'm just clay
still learning my part.
Something always unfinished,
a very ugly work of art.

“Better to have loved and lost
than never loved at all.”

Bullshit.

Would make a good fortune cookie,
looks nice when framed upon a wall,
but wisdom doesn't help much
when you're the one who falls.

I'd rather never know your laugh,
or how you said my name,
never know the warmth of you,
than miss it all the same.

I'd rather pass you on the street,
a stranger passing through,
than carry all these memories
of everything with you.

Because never doesn't haunt you,
never doesn't lie,
never leaves you wondering
why someone walked by.

And you're just a liar,
maybe I was just a fool,
you made deception beautiful
and still made it cruel.

So spare me all the poetry
that says the hurt was worth the cost.
There's nothing fucking beautiful
about knowing what you've lost.

I'd rather you were nobody,
a face I never knew.
I'd rather have a thousand nevers
than one more minute with you.

So don't come back with apologies,
don't call to say you care.
Don't knock upon a door you closed
and hope I'm waiting there.

Keep your words and keep your reasons,
there's nothing left to do.
If never is the peace I need,
then let me never hear from you.

I have really excellent people skills.
such excellent people skills
I know this because
I've successfully avoided
thousands of people in my life.

Give me a book and a chair,
a reasonably quiet corner,
and I can disappear for hours
without technically leaving to go anywhere

I am an introvert with an extrovert
living in the basement.
I can read people really well
But most of all I am reliant.
I have been lied to and taken advantage of
and I just keep ticking.

Most days I will be quiet.
Then somebody says something stupid.

And suddenly
I have thoughts.
So many thoughts.
I can't keep them to myself.
I have so many opinions.

I am a really good judge of people. judging people.

Don't let me like you either.

I will ignore you.
Then notice you.
Then quietly decide
you're interesting.
Then be obsessed with you.
Or maybe none of these.
Then any combination of all of them.

This process can take
anywhere from six minutes
to four fiscal quarters to get it just right

I will hold you at arm's length,
study you like a suspicious footnote,
then one day decide,

Fine.

And now you know everything.

My childhood.
My opinions.
Three stories with unnecessary details.
Why your argument is wrong.
A fascinating thing I read Tuesday.
And apparently
what I had for lunch in 2007.

There is no middle setting.

I either don't know
what to say to you,

or dear God,
someone make me stop.

I want to be invited.
I may not come.

Please invite me anyway.

I want people around.
Not around around.

Maybe over there.

Yes.

That's perfect.

I like crowded rooms
when I can leave them,
long conversations
when I didn't plan them,
and people
once I've had sufficient time
to determine they're people.

I'll push you away,
then wonder where you went.

I'll pull you closer,
then need a minute.

I'll disappear into a book
because imaginary people
are wonderfully respectful
of boundaries.

Then I'll emerge
three chapters later
ready to talk to everyone
about everything.

I have excellent people skills.

They're just
very specifically scheduled,
wildly inconsistent,

and apparently
nonrefundable.

Under the stars,
how can I be sad?
The moon showed up with a smile
Nobody can say that’s bad.

How can I dare to not be glad,
with the whole sky on display?
The stars throw glitter everywhere
and forgot to sweep it away.

What reason is there to be mad?
The universe clearly doesn't even care.
If could hold a grudge all night,
Saturn has astrial rings to wear.

The moon keeps following behind me,
which feels a little strange.
But he's very pleasant company
and never requires me to change.

Sure, I still worry about tomorrow,
but tomorrow's not even here yet.
And as the next day hasn't even happened
I’m not going to waste the night being upset.

The stars just blink and twinkle above me.
They clearly know something that I don't.
I keep asking them for some guidance.
They sparkle. That's all. Answer? - They won't.

And I'm wonderfully insignificant,
just one speck beneath the deep blue,
the cosmos do not need my help,
which is one less thing to prove.

Sure, I'll always struggle,
my emotions are big and wide,
too much for most people’s taste,
but tonight's night sky fits them just fine.

So I'll stay right beneath this circus,
where the planets spin, laugh and pass,
and remember life looks so much better
when my back is pressed against the grass.

Please, don’t put your hopes in one place.
Not ever and not again.
It would be better if you just
scatter them everywhere.

Keep some hidden.
Keep some safe.
Keep something they can’t take.
Keep your dignity this time

And please, please
don’t give your whole heart out once more.
Hold something back.
Lock a door.
Can you leave yourself one small room?
Something that still that belongs only to you?

You know how this is ends.
You know what leaving sounds like.
You know how quiet the room gets
when someone takes everything from you.

So please. For once....
Don't be such a fool.

Learn.
Be careful.
Be guarded.
Be smart.

But you won’t.

You stupid, hopeful idiot.

Someone will smile at you
Someone will tell you how great you are.
They will even mean it.
In exactly the right way you like it to hear it.
and then you’ll throw quickly unlock every door
you swore you’d barricade forever.

There you go again.
You’ll hand them your heart,
your hope,
the stupid hidden spare key.

And when they ask,
“Are you sure?”
you’ll say yes.
Of course you will.
You have no self-respect.

You never learn.

You just heal enough to do it again.

Because you’re stupid. A stupid fool

You’ll find kind eyes,
and suddenly forget
every brilliant little boundary
you confidently set.

It would be so much easier
if you were a fighter and not a lover.
If hurt made you swing,
instead of reach for another.

If I could raise your fists
where you keep opening your arms,
maybe you'd finally learn
that love doesn't always mean no harm.

You’ll hand them all your keys again,
the heart, the hope, the lot.
You’ll say, “This time I’ll be careful.”
No you idiot... You will not.

Good friends tell the truth,
even when it lands wrong.
Bad friends tell you what you need
to keep you hanging on.

Good friends don’t make promises
they never meant to keep.
Bad friends leave the porch light on
then disappear to sleep.

Good friends say, “I’m here,”
and you know just what that means.
Bad friends blur the edges,
living somewhere in-between.

Good friends don’t lead you forward
when they know they won’t come too.
They don’t feed you little maybes
when the answer’s always “no” to you.

Good friends can disappoint you.
They can leave, they can move on.
But they don’t make you question
what was real when they are gone.

I can handle an ugly truth.
I can handle friendship’s end.
Just don’t hand me a beautiful lie
and call yourself my friend.

First, you need to get be burned.

Burned by people who should have loved you,

by the hands that called themselves home.

You must learn too young that fire can wear a familiar face.

After that you carry it. It resides inside you.

You sit in it even though it's bigger than you and it hurts.

This is the dangerous part.

Don't break here

You need a little flame inside from the pain

and then the day comes where you stop knowing the difference

between being burned and burning people yourself.

After that, it's time to get revenge.

Burn bridges.

Burn trust.

Burn people who came close

with nothing in their hands to help you.

Burn them if they deserve it or not.

Call the fire comfort.

Call it escape.

Call it anything but what it is: Pain

Only then can you do whats next.

One day after everything is burned

You will wake up in the ashes.

Take a hard look around.

Some of this was done to you.

Some of this was done by you.

Learn to say both

without using either to excuse the other.

Some people stay there. They are not a Phoenix.

Because to attain this you have to rise up.

Now rise.

Not beautifully.

Not all at once.

Not with some magnificent spread of scarlet wings.

Just get up.

Crawl if you have to.

And if you fall back

into the fire,

get out again.

A phoenix is not a creature that only burns twice.

It is a creature that refuses to let the fire have the final word.

So gather your ash.

Own what is yours.

Own what happened to you. The unfair fire.

Own what you did and face it.

Own what is yours.

Leave behind what isn't.

Then rise again.

And again,

And again,

And again.

The fire can't hurt you anymore.

It will be hot but it can not burn you.

That is how

to be a phoenix.