wordplayground

what is this point
where i am reaching across miles
for places i've already been

and she makes me a playdough 
cake on my birthday, with 
2 candles because she's two and
she sings "happy birthday
dear my sister"

and she asks me if i like
my pillows and she asks me if
i'm happy and when she's angry
she asks me if i see her eyebrows

she wants me to hold her hand 
and she wants me to lay down 
next to her and sing chitty chitty
bang bang i love you and dance and
play ring around the rosie 
and make her playdough 
cheese for her playdough pizza

and she says "only my sister" and
out of the blue she says
"i love you" and she says "how
about that?"

and she wants me to hold her hand
how can i let go?

allowing myself two steps forward only to take three steps back in precaution was still a negative progression, just like how with movement to the side you could never really move on.
/
i developed a rational formula for calculating panic, an irrational occurence that can't be contained, only to find that divergence from the formula itself would cause anxiety.
/
i wanted to be the girl who didn't hold anything back, so i learned to give that impression without really letting go. i would still ration truth and trust in bite-size morsels that you could never really sink your teeth into. it would take the patience of years-after-the-fact before anyone could understand, yet mostly i filtered everyone out long before that time. and just as my family never really stood a chance in the wake of a grandfather, my friends would never stand a chance in the wake of someone for which i now realize i have no title.
/
this year i've come out in more ways than just the obvious, sometimes just by staying in the moment or really being seen. and just as i find myself grown up enough to go home, i've also discovered how to hold on and find it difficult to let go.
/
a habit is born out of a single occurence and its result, despite the weakness in the causal logic. in anger i refused to use my last name, and when my life was saved i wanted never to be identifiable again.
/
i frequently end sentences with prepositions. that's something i can know.

if you go 
in search of being
someone else
holding
someone else
do i then
fill your shoes?

love someone
say my hands are tied
and smile
while i rot inside
settle for a little
when they won't give a lot
keep quiet
with my hands tied

say
it was all
beyond my control

the situation is relative, 
not just between each other,
but also in consideration of each minute,
as my mind fluctuates with this new instability.
one minute,
things are only unstable because i want 
to hold on to a possibility.
but the next 
because i've always been with someone,
but i've only really been with you.

these thoughts echo in my mind.
i'm afraid to put them to words,
holding them back - as if
confronting you was the same as good-bye.

they say if you love some-
thing (someone?)
set it free.
but loving is wanting -
if i want you, is my love selfish?
holding on may(not)be holding
down.