particles

i feel so broken.
maybe that's why my chest
is so tight
my shoulders so tense...
my body is desperately trying
to hold itself together.
i roll my neck
pull back sore shoulders
rotate hips to stretch
my torso-
and it works.

momentarily
but as soon as i stop
the tightness returns
the tension takes back over
because it's not a physical ailment.
it's this gripping fear that leaks
over every inch of my muscles
paralyzing me
and making me desperate to move
simultaneously.
my right half wants me in a wheelchair.
my left half wants to run like my life depends on it
and it thinks it does.

left side saying:
"girl, get the hell out and start
over again. this one's not worth it
either."
right side, through sleepy eyes, whispers:
"i can't go back to the drawing board.
it takes so much to erase a whole page
and i'm damn near exhausted."

and they can't agree to disagree on
alone
because damn it's nice to have a warm
body in your bed
and someone to say goodnight to,
to believe your lies until you feel bad
enough to tell the truth
who's polite enough to wait until
after you tell them
to say they knew all along.
a second plate to wash,
someone to tell you that your ideas
are crazy- but do it anyway
they like you that way.

i'm right handed.
so yeah, the gemini in me
wants to pack up and leave
with some dignity
but the cancer homebody
can't get out of bed.
she wants a sparring partner
just as much as the twins
but
she's not thinking about
how much fun it can be to
discover a new person
inch by inch.
she's not thinking of how special
you can feel when a man goes
out of his way to stop by your office
just to see your face.
she's not even thinking about how
nice it can be to kiss without asking
if its ok.
she can't remember those things.
she wallows in the moment, remembers
only the tragedy
the fingertips moving away
the icicles left as excuses.
how many days it takes
for a scent to wear from an
old sweatshirt.
and she's feeling a whole lot older
than 23.

and she wants someone that makes
her feel like a kid again.
someone that makes her feel like
she's in a cheesy independent film
where no one dies of cancer at the end.
someone that will make her dinner at home
and let her pay when they go out.
someone who takes her to bookstores
AND amusement parks
and understands that sometimes she
wakes up at 4am to write a chapter
that won't get out of her dreams.
most of all, she wants to know that
that person is out there.