Nothing At All

I don't know how to be whole, to be put together, every piece in place. I just don't. After all this time every fracture, every scar is so familiar to me. It seems so much easier to fall, to give up to think I never failed because I never tried than to actually have something to lose. To break one more time would mean more flaws to be discovered, more imperfections glaring through the veneer. I. can't. handle. it. I'm not quite sure yet how to smile without the plastic despair injects me with. How to breathe and keep breathing instead of gasping, choking, always. I build ugly words upon ugly words over people's faces to convince myself of my own elevated worth. I am sorry. You are my completeness. I ache to accept your love in all its sincerity but do you love me or the person I pretend to be? Do you love me darkness inclusive? If you knew, really knew, the colour of my blood would your heart still beat my name or the pulse die, betrayed by the paint over my image? I want to be your everything but too often I suspect that you are being overcharged and really I am nothing at all.