I find that at the beginning of my cry

I keep my eyelids touching

So You don’t see my tears.

My whole face burns,

I bounce my leg up and down to cope,

It’s tough keeping my whines veered.

My hands are cold and are wanting to be held,

Not by you,   

But by You.  

My body aches from the lack of physical contact,

But don’t touch me,

I crave the contact of one hand,

That hand is not yours,

and I am not your baby.  

Pardon me for being picky.

I’m afraid for anyone to fall in love with me,  

I don’t love you.

Leave me alone, or I will stay and break you.

I’m better off walking alone,

I remind myself of this every time I get weak,

Even when surrounded I am still isolated.

I am in the crossover of self-actualization,  

On the highest peak–

Except now I have hurt another,

I fall off the edge–

In to a pit of what I have tried to finish burying.  

I need to stop seeking for You in another.

But to realize what I have already found,

And to accept what is unknown.

Me.