Sometimes I sit here and wonder why I am not sitting here with anyone I like. Why I am not with people, or talking about simple nonsense with non sensible sapiens. Why I find this seat more warming alone. And I sit here, trying to pour out some sort of poem, nothing short of amazing because spending time alone is a recipe for sagacious notions. But I promise you, this seat is not going to create a magical, healing potion, and even I struggle to accept that.

I wish I could explain myself to you. I wish it was a little less of an occupation. Pouring my heart out to you like rain sounds so effortless, especially when the urge crushes my brittle ribcage, cradling the organs strung together, with gauze loosely woven to secure this monstrous thing I guess you would call my heart. But I can tell you, it falls apart quicker than you think.

But all I can do is keep breathing.

All I can hold onto is the healing hearts I brake and the operations I intend to complete but can’t ever do well. 

All I can tell you is that I am doing my best to be an open book, an open door with a welcome sign at your foot but all I am is a giant labyrinth that I can’t even lead. I should be put on a leash and told what to be but I’m not and I like you for that.


I’m a human to you, even thought I’m not one to myself.  

So that’s how I love not being with people. Because people have invisible leashes that hold you to a seat and tell you exactly how and what to be. How and what to not be.

But you aren’t a person to me, you’re not like everybody else.

I like staying up late with you and driving along roads with you and holding that hand of yours that is free of invisible leashes. And I wish I wasn’t so closed and away from other species but I’m getting there. Baby steps. 


One thought on “L E A S H E S

  1. Pingback: Could have been worse | Adventures of Molly and Jasper

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