shachia

Sometimes I'm not sure what to say.

Bubbling emotions in me. i'm a bottle of tonic, shaken up by you. Take everything in
me, turn everything away. Can you guess what I'm feeling? Do I even know? Damned if
I do.

You say there's no passion between us? Since when was that a bad thing? You've set me
to being friends. My confusion knows no bounds. I walk this line with you and I never
know where you want me to stand. Every day you explain again and again why you
couldn't be in love with me, when ages ago I accepted that we would be friends.

Every time another knife in my heart, every time another twist. Every time another
flaw of my persona. How many did you think I didn't know already? how many do you
think I needed to hear again? And the worst, "maybe I can't love you because you don't
love yourself." Dearie, I was quite happy with myself until you felt the need to point
out each little flaw and ascribe to it the reason you couldn't love me.

How many reasons you can't love me? innumerable. Sometimes I wonder not why you don't
love me, but how you can stand me.

Do you want to see me? Do you want to see my heart, my passion, my life? Ask.
Everything is given if it is asked.

Floating in a sea of pain, I wash away myself. I am, myself, clean, pure, whole.
Undissolved. Everything extends from me, and returns. Mirrors at the boundaries of
time and space reflect me upon myself. Caught in the cosmos is the flesh. The
un-beginning rises above, fleshless, unshackeled, empty. Burn the beginning and
endings and relax into the ever-now.