Turtledragon Poetry

My God, you don’t understand how very good those words sound to ears as tired as mine.

You keep asking me what’s wrong, but my love, there are no words that could explain.

I wish I could just hold you like this forever— living in the space between words and noise; that my love for you could be enough, that I could exist in our love, let this moment define my eternity.

If only you could let me play pretend for just a little while longer— just let me take a moment to breathe. I’m too exhausted to “just keep fighting,” I don’t want to have to speak anymore.

Can’t I just keep the words I need for all the ways to say “I love you”? I wish you didn’t need to see all of 'me'.

My love, please—can we just stay here? I just— need the way you get me out of my head. Please, I don’t want to go back.

The darkness is all-consuming, and it is so very loud. I wish you could just understand how amazing this feels— the sensation of disappearing into this love.

I only want to be enough for you, for us, to make this real for you too.

I wish my love wasn’t so painful, that this didn’t make me toxic, that my pain didn’t ever have to hurt you too.

Yes—and education is my everything I will not let you take that away from me.

Whenever I’ve lost everything, it has always been the last piece of myself I’ve held onto— and when everything is inevitably stripped from me again,

this time—

if you want to destroy it, you will have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.

I know it’s amusing to watch me struggle. I know it looks pathetic.

But remember this:

the very thing you laugh at is the reason I am so excruciatingly difficult to get rid of.

and remind yourself of the purpose

not because you’ve forgotten—

but because you can’t feel it

I know it doesn’t always make sense

and sometimes it’s hard

to remember the things you love

that’s okay

do what you have to

to keep going—

Well I’m sick of only ever half saying anything

Masking everything under layers of complex analogies

I’ve seen tragedy before not when you looked at me like that with tear-stained cheeks and desperation in your eyes

no, no—my love, I know where real pain lies not even in the imperceptible way your voice catches but in all the words you didn’t say

I see it in your silence

in the moment emptiness became relief

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell me I’m not capable that I shouldn’t even try

I know I don’t belong here— I’ve known that since before I could speak

I choose to believe I was never meant to exist because it makes everything else less painful

But I decided years ago— if I’m going to exist, if life was breathed into these lungs,

then I will spend every second I possibly can working toward something

I will not let it be in vain— I refuse

impossible to follow

it’s funny really

you can’t begin to fathom how much worse it

is for me

there are too many thoughts

twisting and tangling into each other

I can’t fucking think anymore

but unlike you—

but you can’t see

I’ve been forced back up

before I’m done falling

for so long now

as if it’s some profound revelation

when all I’ve ever wanted

destroying what’s left of me

is the closest I’ll ever come

to getting back at you.

“Just breathe. Just try a little harder. Just move on. Just let it go. Just stop caring.”

As if it’s ever “just” anything.

I have such a bad headache— not sudden, not new— it’s been compounding for years of trying to make this work, to do things your way, follow all your rules.

You approach me in the present like this is a single moment— a matter of habits, time management, something simple to fix. You tell me everything I’m doing wrong without ever telling me anything I haven’t heard a thousand times, repeating everything that’s never worked.

You treat this like a blip in time when it’s years of building tension— years of trying to make this work, to do things your way, follow your rules— until everything started to break.

I can’t just “let the little things go” because I’ve been doing that for so long without ever being allowed to acknowledge it.

My brain just shoves everything back— nothing resolved, nothing released— never given the chance to grieve, everything piling up until there was no space left for thinking

You can’t tell me to “just breathe” when I’ve been holding my breath for so long air feels foreign in these lungs.

You can’t tell me to “just stop caring,” or that it’s just “anxiety,” when I’ve been forcing myself into apathy for so long I can’t feel a fucking thing.

Praised for pushing through, for enduring anything— dissociating until there was nothing left of me to actually care.

not just in losing everything

over and over and over again

but in being forced to watch it happen

this body will never forget

I just hate to sleep,

“How many words did I say this week”

It’s not that I have nothing to say—

I just can never find a way to phrase anything

And lately I’ve thought I was losing my mind

I know I used to be better at translating myself into your language

Twisting bits and pieces of stories with different tones and details

Crafting tongues you’d have an easier time interpreting

I forget I only ever learned to speak in analogies—

endlessly taught what not to say

when those thoughts have been carved into every surface of this skull

And I’ve started losing track of what

frameworks I’ve used with who—

which threads belong to who

Everything has become too complicated

each web more tangled than the last

But I’ve realized it does make sense—