I am so scared to show you
who I am-
I use smoke and mirrors
To keep you from seeing…
Believing that if you knew
what I really looked like
you might not really like what you see

So I hide from you, and I hide from me..
And these things in which I
run into,
Like distractions for my mind,
I dwell upon them to keep myself
otherwise occupied

The shame of it all
is that when you hold me close
I cannot feel your arms-
Because you’re holding a ghost…
I long for you to find what’s hidden underneath
but when I cannot even find myself
what’s there to love of me?