A Thin Line Poem by Kayla Burress

I’m alive…
Am I?
Swinging from high to low,
I can never really be sure.
I’m infected, poisoned, and the disease is like a shadow:
Dark, omnipresent.
It takes over, tattoos my life,
Hides me.

On top of the world,
But I talk myself down.
They can’t love me.
They couldn’t…
Could they?

The questions swim around in my head, a dark blue,
And leave me feeling
Empty.
No, not empty,
Full.
Full of air.
Full of space.
Full of nothing.
I chase down love and run away from it at the same time.
I long for connection yet fear the possibility.

Should I question this love?
Should I dive headfirst into it, only to crack my hollowed head
On the cold pavement?

I’m dead.
I have to be…
Don’t I?
I can’t feel.
I can’t love.
I can’t touch.

I feel too little.
I feel too much.
The emotions rush through me,
As the syrupy blood through my undeserving veins.

Save me.
Drifting in a sea of nothing, I need
Someone to take my hand.
Someone to lead me to shore.
Someone to hold me.
Someone to tell me I’ll be okay.
Someone to make me whole again.
Someone to color my dark blue sea in yellow.

Not dead or alive,
I’m comatose.
I’m injured.
I’m broken.
I’m fixable.