More Than a Flower

I was thinking of a word;

it sat on the tip of my tongue and yet I refused to share it.

Refused to let it fall out of my mouth like

semi melted butter would slide across bread…

A kind of gliding that I am not yet good at.

I was thinking a thought.

A thought that quickly made me feel something warm.

I could feel it hot against my skin; red scattering across my cheeks

like a mask that I had no choice but to wear.

You didn’t notice. Wrapped up in your own thoughts, I’m sure.

Like the way you wrap your fingers around a glass of whiskey; tight.

I had started to write about the word.

The word that we both held in the caverns of our throats; in the dark.

Shadowed against burning fires that were extravagant but didn’t keep us warm enough.

The word tried to keep us warm.

The word created actions that we couldn’t help but act out;

jumping into rivers without thinking twice about drowning.

I think the word made us love each other.

There are so many things that happen due to this one little word.

This one word that we can’t help but fall into.

This one word that we feel belongs in our everyday blood stream.

I whisper the word under my breath just barely and wonder if you hear it;

wonder if you heard it, if you would react…

Would you reach out and try to hold something real?

Peel back the layers that I’ve held deep under the surfaces of flesh and bone?

I wonder what an utterance of the word would bring into existence…

Would it bring about love? Hatred? Anger? Denial? Sadness?

I close my eyes tight and I whisper into the room full of echos;

into the chambers of the life we live…

Disguised.

We used to live in a house with

a porch surrounded by jasmine vines;

crawling around the porch and up

to the roof. The smell thick and sweet.

My mind only remembers a few details;

ages one through nine lost within

the walls of self-made protection.

Abuse x neglect equal my brain covering

the memories in a blanket, tucking them in

and putting them fast to sleep.

Sometimes I dream of orange shag

carpets and my little brother’s laughter but

they quickly turn to nightmares laced

with a reality I’m still not sure ever  

really existed but I love the nostalgic

scent of jasmine seeping into my body as

the nightmares drift towards me;

welcoming me home.

Past midnight and there are still no stars.

There is only a bleakness that invades

my soul from the outside, like it belongs

in the hallow of my chest… Like it knows

how easily I would succumb. It sees

my restlessness and makes a home within it.

Feeding off the anxious jitters until

the words that hurt the most are the

only ones on repeat in my mind, the ones

you don’t hear but see across my face;

lip biting in the ugliest ways. You are

the light, reaching forward to pull me out

and away; the star to guide my way

back to who I really am. The one who

wants so desperately to stay but is too

tired to keep fighting.

I always struggle with myself and who I am. I have a hard time dealing with things like imposter’s syndrome and anxiety. I overthink and tend to care very much about what other’s think of me. It often breaks me and then I become filled with stubbornness and anger. I shut down and refuse to continue on in my life and I realize that this ends up hurting me more in the long run. It hurts me to constantly make myself small because I am so afraid of being told all of the things that were told to me in my childhood; that I am so unworthy of any kind of platform or voice. ⁣⁣

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I try to be proud of how far I have come in my life (personal and writing) and be happy but it’s so hard. I feel like I’m constantly fighting with myself; constantly convincing myself that I am worthy of love and this art that I sometimes hate with all of my heart but words keep saving me. Words keep bringing me back out of myself and showing me the way to my own happiness. At the end of everyday of my life, after I’ve done everything I can to pull my happiness from others I find myself disappointed until I release here. In this way. In this form. This is the only way I know 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞. ⁣⁣

⁣⁣

𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 but I wanted to share this and say, I truly appreciate everyone who sticks around and reads my work and shows me love and appreciation. It’s amazing how much I have grown just by joining this amazing, insane, random, beautiful community. This is literally the first time I’ve written in maybe a month? and it turns out I had two pieces inside of me so here you go! I haven’t ever done one of these before here but it’s a poem within a poem… You can read it on the first slide or you can swipe and read on the next slide (separately). ⁣⁣

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Thank you again for following/liking/sharing/commenting. I truly appreciate all you 🖤⁣⁣

⁣⁣

ReBecca DeFazio⁣⁣

I keep being reminded.

Keep seeing myself in your eyes;

the reflection of myself creating a new feeling.

You whisper in my ear and I let it linger.

I let you walk away and find myself huddled alone

in the corner, memorizing the words of another new

language happily [being alone]. I scribble into

journals and decide it's good enough

to feel it and then let it out.

I find ways to distract myself and

empty the over kill into

pots and pans that I eventually

throw out [stop holding on].

Reminding myself that self pity is

trash and I don't need

it to acknowledge the pain.

I don't need you to see it for me

to heal it but you do see it.

You tell me all the time not to be

shy but I don’t know if I'm shy or just full of shame.

I push through the feeling of dying to share

what I keep in the part of my ribcage I never

let you touch and you hold me. You reward me

with the thing you don't even label as "reward" but

I would do anything to feel your love heavy against

my skin so I keep breathing, pushing, trying, crying,

dying, falling apart in front of you,

vulnerability eating

me alive right before your eyes, smiling...

You keep reminding me... It's okay to want to be alive

even if it feels like everything could be dead inside.

ReBecca DeFazio

I need you doesn't seem

powerful enough even when I

speak it out loud. You don't

feel the urgency in my texts

either; saying, "I know, baby but

I’m here, okay?” I can't seem to

get myself out of the loop; the

worst of me placed on repeat in

my mind so I cry. When you hold me

I feel good inside until it’s time for

you to roll over and close your eyes…

I sleep in your clothes to try to keep

myself from believing that you don’t

love me. The smell of you surrounding me,

helping me fall asleep but even in my

dreams, the demons speak. "He never

loved you.” "They'll always leave."

I wake up and you're there but I can't

feel you. I don’t feel the love you hold

for me; numbness spreads over me and

I feel the lies penetrating. You look at me

worried and I smile through the pain;

"Don't look insane. He's done nothing

to make you feel this way." You kiss me

and it silences my brain for just a little...

I find myself distracted; laughing until

I'm alone and the inward reflections are

nothing but hate speech and degradation.

When I cry you ask me why and all I can

say is, "It's so scary inside my brain."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I haven’t felt like being vulnerable, like sharing, or being raw for a while now because I’m exhausted. I have had so much time during this quarantine/lockdown to sit with myself and it’s been hard for me. I have realized that I haven’t healed as much as I thought I had… That I have a lot of bad habits, 0 coping skills, codependency/abandonment/trust issues, self-esteem issues, etc, etc… I started therapy again to try and deal with my issues and maybe find some solace. I always come back to this search for solace… I’m not sure if I’ll find it anytime soon but at least I’m writing again (here and there…)

So, anyways… Here’s a poem. I hope to talk more about this shit in the future because this space has always been a place where I felt like I could share, where I could possibly help someone feel less alone and maybe more understood… Mental health is so hard; it’s so different for everyone… As is the path to finding healing and peace… I hope that you know that if you struggle with feelings of worthlessness, self-hatred, shame, guilt, intrusive thoughts… Whatever… You’re not alone and we’re gonna be okay eventually. We just have to keep fighting… Keep trying. You are loved even if you can’t feel it right now.

ReBecca DeFazio

Recording moments:

2:34 a.m. July 19th, 2020

He falls asleep while I play with his hair

after he tells me my bare skin is cold and

wraps me up in his arms. Radiating warmth;

I wonder if it’s just the way he makes me

feel. He stares into my eyes until he can’t

fight it anymore and I kiss his lips gently

before untangling my fingers and soaking

up all the safety he offers before falling asleep.

It feels like a dream before the dreaming

even begins... It’s one of my favorite feelings.

ReBecca DeFazio

I wanna talk about the way you touch me

when you’re not paying too much attention;

when your fingertips brush across my skin

quickly and gently, almost as if it didn’t

happen at all. Those moments leave me

feeling breathless; craving for more. When

you find yourself lost in the coffee that swirls

in my eyes, butterflies don’t just flutter in my

stomach, they sing. Bringing flowers to bloom.

I hear them talking in the depths of my soul;

chattering on about how you’re the one and I swoon.

Melting into the river of emotions I can never seem

to dry out; I flow through so quickly that

I’ve lost my breath all over again and...

It. Feels. So. Good.

ReBecca DeFazio

Trying to keep you from seeing how much I want to be destroyed;

let me be missing in action. Bottom of the ocean kind; washed

away, sins taken off of the skin I could never love. Full of hatred and

then… Release. Completely undone, my sobs sound like screams

being choked out; I can’t get ahold of the air. Underwater I struggle to

push myself out of the depths, out of the sadness [brokenness]

that I can’t help but embrace. [What would I be without this pain?]

You try to comfort me and I spit venom in your eyes just

to get you to turn your face away from mine, embarrassed by

the reflection of myself in your eyes. Yet you come back,

you take the shirt off your back to wipe away the poison

and wrap your arms around my body until I can no longer

fight you. Tears roll down my face as I gasp for air;

shivers run down my spine as you kiss away all of the pain

until I’m numb. I can’t feel anything except the high that you

bring to the forefront of my mind. You whisper, “rest” but

I can’t. I dig my claws into your back and bring your flesh to

mine; ecstasy taking away the sadness and replacing it

with lustful love. Addicted to the way you make me feel I

beg for it until you’re exhausted. I take until you break and

then the shame washes over me again. A sick cycle I can

never seem to break.

ReBecca DeFazio

you reach for me

and i breathe

into you.

you'll never catch me

saying "no." envelope me

in your arms, lips to neck

and i'm yours. i find that

we're at our best when we're

under covers figuring things out

and i could try to romanticize us

but it would never fucking compare.

ReBecca DeFazio

we melt into words that lead

to actions that cause feelings

to explode into the space that

we thought would be empty

forever. We crawl through the

briers that grew from trauma,

stress, and silence; misunderstandings

leading to mistrust and heartbreak…

Knees bleeding, we remember

who we are. In the light and in

the shadows; finding each

other’s lips, fingertips, and

hearts still alive; still grasping

for one another’s flesh…

For one another’s affection,

validation, love. We admit

that we will never find

another connection like ours

and we give into the raw.

We give into the now. Where

pride and fear of rejection no

longer exist… Where we’re

more than flaws and perfections.

We see the damage done and

kiss it away; begging for forgiveness

from one another until the days

become lighter and the love

becomes fuller. We remember

what it is to love; teenagers again

looking into each other’s eyes

accepting that we’re so flawed…

But so loved.

ReBecca DeFazio

#justicforgeorge

We never cliff dived;

never found ourselves lost.

We had a plan; a plan to be anything

except our parents. A plan to be

okay; thriving. In love. Happy.

And we’ve come so far but

I’m tired of safety; maybe this

feeling is coming from my

self destructive heart.

We both know that sometimes it

tends to boil over but maybe it’s just

that I feel safe anywhere you are.

So let’s jump. Let’s move to France

and learn a new language. Let’s

raise the children with love

and freedom and cultures that

aren’t our own. Let them bear

witness to our love story.

Let them tell their friends and

spouses stories of us laughing

hysterically while dancing in the

kitchen at midnight in a new

country, our kitchen is feeling a little

small lately and I would love

to spend a night lost in Paris with you.

Lost. Blissfully lost.

ReBecca DeFazio

I haven’t written everyday since January. I second guess everything even my own skin - should it look this way? What could I do to change it? Why do I think like this? Shouldn’t I learn to love myself? When do I find the soul hitting questions to help myself solve all the “hard” questions? Why haven’t I found “my people?” Why didn’t I spend more time finding my place on the East Coast, in New York? Why are there so many writers but so little conversation? It must be me. I’m always avoiding. Always running away. Always afraid that I’m not who I am. I read books and I cry. I watch movies and I cry. I wish I could write again and I cry but I don’t write. I wait. I listen. I cry. You hold me sometimes, sometimes you don’t even know. I’m sneaky when I want to be [ashamed of how I can never seem to pick up the pieces]. I’m trying to find happy in myself instead of finding it in those around me. When they don’t understand me I break- I feel they must be right. I must be so hard to fucking love. I must be so god damn difficult... I don’t see it. He doesn’t see it (or he does but he doesn’t care, I think...) I don’t know.

ReBecca DeFazio