January 11, 2021.
i'm a try-hard

blue spruce tree veins

it would serve you well
to understand that a spill isn't just a spill
that every line on your hand isn't just a line
and that my heart may seem like gold but my brain is a coal mine

and my heart may fool us both
but my ribs are turning green
even my veins are starting to look
like the roots of blue spruce trees

i have the nasty habit of losing who i am
i'm sure i'm somewhere down the drain
hiding next to an old wedding ring
who's also scared of comitment and potential pain

but i'll try on a different personality or two
find out what you like and keep it up
i'm a quick learner when it comes to protecting
any amount of love

truth is, i'm so outside myself
it's always peering in through a window
to find someone else in my skin
i can't decide what's real and what i should let go

you asked my favorite color
and i couldn't even tell you
i don't know how much of myself is a performance
but if my life was a play, i'd want a refund for something more honest

ah, i think i remember who i was, at least
before my mother coated me with gasoline
and my father lit the match
but i knew him for such a short amount of time
so who knows how much this facade will last

when my hands shook as a child
my mother would yell
i couldn't process fear enough to overcome it
i couldn't process anger in fear of becoming her

and i looked at her one day,
my eyes damp, my soul curled up and paralyzed,
and found myself asking, "how do i become good enough?"
my acting career began in order to feel love

and when she was gone and i knew
i could close those theater curtains
i didn't know how to live without a mask
so unfortunately, i became a mirror to give everyone what they lacked

Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 55 times
Written on 2021-01-12 at 03:27

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