favorite sweater: live

i guess what you are witnessing is the seeking of rejection inside of acceptance.

reflections of a seven-year-old girl waiting in vain for a daddy's love that like him, ain't there.

glimpses of that twelve-year-old chasing that boy over the hill screaming out she don't like you

knowing full well that i do.

because deep inside the surface of this tough exterior, are those little girls.




of letting anyone in, because everyone leaves.

and everyone says that they won't.

but everyone is gone now.

it's what they're used to.

it's what we've come to know.

it's what i create.

because it feels comfortable.

like a favorite sweater made of rose thorns, three sizes too small, yet worn everyday, believing that it can't be taken off.

because the opposite can't hurt nearly as much as the holes in my soul plugged and pacified by this pain that i know.

pain that i use to keep you at bay.

help me to remove this hurt, this pain, this tight ass sweater restricting my ability to even dream of letting you in.

because even though i want us more than anything else in my life, i find myself seeking comfort in chaos

that hurts so good but has gotten old.

the truth is... i need you.

and i'd rather have your arms around me than this stupid sweater with all of its thorns worn a few seasons too long.

it's time i take it off...and be nude.


and vulnerable.

with you.

© 2013 | rachel m. walls