Disease.

Hello Friends!

I haven’t written in a while, and I haven’t finished my drafts either. That’s because I haven’t had a chance to really pay my fullest attention to them, and I want them to be perfect. This is an old poem I wrote a very long time ago. It was before I discovered how much strength I have to hold myself instead of letting someone else do it. Handling ourselves is pretty hard sometimes, and it’s always easier to shove the hard work to someone else. It’s also riskier. Enjoy this one. X

{

I am a disease.
I could have said that I’m a person, which is diseased. And I am.
But the disease became more than a part of me.
It started eating me out until there was nothing left. I act like my disease now.
I can’t think of anything else than what I’ve become. I behave like a diseased person.
I am curious – will I ever come back? Will I return from the inside? Will the me I’ve kept inside, the me I stored up deep inside, wake up and take back what’s hers? Will I realise that my disease is something that forms me instead of something that takes me over? Am I strong enough?

Sometimes we can use a little help.

When people are sick, they go to see a doctor for a cure. Some people cure themselves. But I can’t – I am a disease. I am resistant to a lot cures. There’s only one cure I can’t get over. I can’t win from. It’s you.
It’s when you whisper in my ears I can free myself. That’s when the flower deep inside starts growing.
It’s when your arms hold me in the cold, that’s when I realise warmth is the result of when the right ingredients are used.
It’s when you dance with me and hold my hands in a safe position, that’s when a hundred butterflies start flying in my stomach.
It’s when you slide with your fingers over my black nail polish. That’s when my eyes want to drown in yours as you’re staring in mine.
It’s when you show me you care. That’s when a chemical reaction happens we call love.

And you are a million miles away. You don’t even know it’s you. I’m stuck in a winter without sunshine.
I’m trapped in a body with no cure.
I can’t get free without my distraction.
I have no cure, I don’t have you. I can’t get free.
I am not diseased, I became the disease itself.

}

2014.

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