Intrusive
In search of a skin
Binding, my breath is caught in restrictive fabrics.
Mirrored back, and I think I look good.
Green is my color, heathered.
See and show who I am, a shorthand representation of ego.
I want it to feel good.
Scrunchies on my bedside table spite my buzzcut.
Nothing feels cleaner than a blank slate, metamorphosis.
But in that I lose people, I lose myself, I disconnect.
It’s heavy, feeling.
So, I skip it.
Trying not to be, removing myself from my presence.
But the fabric keeps me in, I’m here in it.
I ask it to keep me together, please.
Squeeze me tight and put me back in place.
Keep me here.
I just wish I could breathe.
Please.
It would all come together if I could just breathe.
About the Creator
Carol Lipshultz
I'm a chemist who loves to be an artist/writer for enjoyment.
(they/them)
Keep reading
More stories from Carol Lipshultz and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (2)
This feels like one trying to put the pieces on oneself into the whole of what one should be. Searching for the self. Hope it is found.
This is incredible. I really think exploration of poetry would elevate all areas of your artistic expression. This poem is provocative and demanding when read. It took me outside myself and into the writing. At every juncture your word choice lead me deeper into an understanding. An understanding that felt mutual between myself as reader and you as poet. Beyond empathy lies synchronicity -- I love the way you built a bridge with so few words.