Familiar Comforts

Those places I return to when the discomfort of living in my own skin is too heavy.

She is a gift to sight
A pleasant warmth in a blizzard of self hate

I return and return
Begging her attention
Crying that she can make me complete
To fill the void I continue to evade

The heart, my heart, bleeds.
Not the blood it pulses through me,
It bleeds the tears of each pulse I’ve tried to stop

The mirrors don’t reflect the truth
They speak the words I teach them
And they echo the lies I guard

Lies I guard behind solid brick
Wolves at the gates, starved for a fight
To earn their meal of flesh

Familiar comforts
All of it.
The emptiness,
The incompleteness,
The drive for death in a life of deceit.

I’ve made it to this place over years,
How many more will it take to forget?