It's Zenobia

I will start with the simplest  of statements the most honest  of proclamations I am sad  at this turn  of events this turn of my head and my heart and the hard dark  parts on the inside of me I pushed  pushed pushed  repeatedly  down  down down  all the hurt  that reached up  to blind me  all the pain that reached up  to bind me  to my lonely ways and fought against myself with a smile  on my face to let myself  have something  that I have always craved to lead myself  somewhere that I have always been afraid  and now it seems  it's all starting  to fade  and I feel myself  as I slowly drift away  and I can admit  that it's a feeling that I hate but it seems for me to be  the most permanent of states  I look up at the sky of us and can't help  ...

I imagine that we lock eyes and I  am exposed  before you  that you see things from before you  things that deplore you  things that I  thought  I could hide well  I could bide time till  I could figure out  how to erase them  but we lock eyes and I  am forced to face them  to place them  in your hands and await a verdict  I have already  imposed on myself  in hopes that I felt  enough shame  to realize  I don't deserve this  or you  or love  or who  you think that I am  I picture us  locking eyes  and feeling the crushing  weight of the end as your hand  presses firmly  at my throat  catching pleas and suffocating hope  making tears  pool and soak  the pillow  beneath me  believe me  when I say  that I am not enough  to fill a day  or your heart  or your hands or your head but I will...

Should I tell you That I'm empty That I'm aching To be filled To be milled Into soft Fine Powder So that I might Finally feel a lightness In my heart Should I tell you That its hard To have such space Between me And the place I wish I could be I wish I knew how To allow Myself to be free Should I tell you I'm thirsty Tongue desperate To taste To soak To know The freshness Of love Of trust Of arms draped across Bodies burning From lust Of a touch That heals As it floods My senses Should I end this On this Highest of notes Should I go While we still Have smiles on our faces While we still believe We are making The right choices Before I am left Hopeless Helpless Hurt at your feet Should I tell you I am afraid Or should I wait Till We meet