Out Of Order

I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough.

I pulled you in so closely that I pushed you away.

If a ghost is just a memory of someone long gone, then they do not have to die to haunt you. They simply must leave you with a casket stuffed with the bones of the past that will not rest.   And you have left me   so many phantoms in your wake.

I had not yet learned softness, nor tact nor patience. I had only ever tried to force myself into molds that didn’t fit. I thought that compelling myself into changing would goad my growth. I know now that I must wait to grow through change.

What's your sexuality

So maybe I’m not in love with the boy, just with the chaos he creates. With the knife fights. With turning myself into a ghost story. With having a story worth telling.