Sometimes I think my fingers
Are not these pencils of blood and bone
But rather the space between them.
Sometimes I think I am everything I’m not.
I think that I am mist on the river.
I think that I am unrefracted light.
I think that I am the blank spaces on the wall no one ever seems to notice.
Sometimes I feel invisible in my own life.
I’ve got fistfuls of friends I’m tugging out
Begging to look at me
Because I’m not quite sure if I’m real.
I understand they have their own lives
They have things they must attend to
And I’m sure I do get annoying
Sometimes I just need someone to wrap their arms around me
So I can know my own mass.
To know that I am not the space pushed between two atoms
But rather that I am millions upon millions of atoms.
I’ve got this fake cocky girl swagger down.
I can spit words off my lips with the most demeaning of stares
But honestly I don’t know if I’m real sometimes.
I don’t know if the pressure I feel against my back is the couch cushion
Or just my own mind hovering over some body pretending.
I run my hands along icy chain link fences
And I walk on concrete in the middle of the summer
I take scalding showers and ice baths
Just to feel something.
But that doesn’t tell me if anyone sees me.
That doesn’t tell me if this is worth something.
Because I feel invisible in my own life.
A shadow people look through.
And I know I should have more self worth
I know I should be shaking my head no
Saying I am better than this
But I still don’t know who I am.
And honestly I’m not sure if I’m the blank spaces
Or exactly what I am.
All I know is sometimes
I feel invisible in my own life.