Brown Box

As much as I thought I didn't give a fuck

That nostalgic part of me still does

Hope for what will never be, is not and never was

Hate seeing you happy,  and love seeing you lamenting

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What qualifies this hate?
using my generosity and affinity as a weapon?
the emotional and physical infidelity
I have yet to discover the meaning
Save for the only joy you have given me
I can cite no positivity
The sex was not enough to rectify
Those egregious and fatal flaws
Disconnect was so strong
Questioning if it was really you
Or if i really know you at all
Fuck

Closets and Skeletons

Closed off from another world dying to be liberated
I am not sure where I need to be
Is this what I really am?
Have my eyes come equipped to see?
I feel comfortable in the meanwhile
The other side has piqued my interest for a spell
However taboo it might appear
Status quo has built my fear
I hide the agony well
Born This Way? Perhaps.
Come Clean? Maybe.
Then again, I feel bipolar
The mania envelops me opportunistically
But mostly I have to depress the urge
Since it is no returning once I cross that bridge