The Space Between The Falling

but I am not only soft

I am softness with teeth

chiseled into daggers

I am hot

but not sexual

I am fire that burns white

leaving ashes in my wake

I am love

without being loved

I will patch your sorrowed holes

I’m so tired of waking up like this

It feels like my body is made of electricity with an overloaded circuit

I swear my veins are buzzing.

My skin and bones could vibrate themselves into a pile of dust.

Oxygen starved, gasping for air like my chest is collapsing

Hands trembling. Heart racing. Stomach churning.

And my first fucking thought,

is you.

Calling you.

Begging you to make this go away.

Fix it. Please.

The thought of your voice, simultaneously escalating

and deescalating my sense of urgency.

I want to silent, whole-body-shaking sob

when I think of you.

But, also I just want you to hold me.

Oh god

how badly I want you to fucking hold me.

Squeeze me tightly, ground me please.

I’m afraid I might just float away.

My body searches for you in the night,

I wake up looking for you.

My brain tricks me while I sleep,

I wake up hearing your voice in bed beside me.

Only to find, a dark, empty room.

That’s when the panic sets in.

I’ll let love

find me gently.

Not in the crash of thunder,

but in the quiet of consistency.

Not in the highs that make me fly,

but in the hands

that don’t let me fall

So if you come to me now,

come steady,

come honest,

come soft.

Because I am no longer

a home for chaos.

I am a place

where peace lives.

And this time,

there’s a saying that I’ve heard

it goes something like–

“the good part about reaching rock bottom,

is that, it’s only up from here”

but my rock bottom has basements

littered with trap doors

lying in wait for a misplaced step

just to pull me down deeper, and–

deeper

the view from down here is dismal