Thursday, December 3, 2015

foreign to me

I am not a fantasy. 
I am just a girl. 

I don't want to play your fantasy. 
I want something real.
Something ugly and messy. 
Something that doesn't run away because it doesn't like whose staring back in the mirror. 

I am not a fantasy. 
There's cat hair on my couch and dirty clothes on my floor. 
I feel sad when people don't want to talk to me anymore. 
I feel angry when my body is used to fill someone's void. 

I don't want to be anyone else. 
I want to be the crazy girl I am. 
And I don't want someone who doesn't like who I am. 

I don't want to be pushed away because I make your heart scream. 
It's not my fault the affect I have on you is ecstasy. 
That's just how my eyes are. 

I am not your fantasy. 
I don't believe in words. 
The consistent inconsistency of waning emotion. 
Your feelings may leave you, your thoughts betray you. 

But I will still be here. 
As I am. 
Unapologetic.  
Running from nothing. 
Always acting on behalf of the cries of my heart. 
Because living in feigned indifference would be too grey. 


I am not a drug. 
Even if I do make you high. 
Cravings come and go. 
What I am is permanent. 
I am in your skin. 
I dance in your heart. 
When you close your eyes you see my face. 
And I will never 
Ever
Disappear. 
I am a part of who you're scared to be. 

I am not your fantasy.
I am your only reality 
Where complacency is shattered. 





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