Adventura, Poetry
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Equal & Opposite

I

As you speak,
your words are traced on my skin.
No one speaks quite like you.

No one quite understands that
by now, I am just bones held together
by the vestiges of you.

I can’t finish you,
I can’t get enough of you.
I’ve tried.

I’ve never really tried.

II

It was always sandpaper on skin with you.
I knew I was rough around the edges but
I’d hoped you liked me that way.

I got lost in you—in your darker corners.
Lit a fire and kept myself warm in secrets
you’d only speak of in the middle of the night
in self-conscious whispers.

But those nights were never enough.
They never really filled.
You never really filled but you were
never really full—only half a man at most.

I could’ve taken your half and loved it with mine
but I was both too much and not enough.

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Hi, I’m Emily and I like to think of myself as a kaleidoscope, but one that ranges from a spectrum of commitment issues to emotional hoarding, all circling around varying shades of anxiety. People say I have trouble ‘staying present’ and I’ve found that daydreaming becomes significantly less acceptable in your 20’s.

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