• Dina


Updated: Dec 31, 2018

I remember when my therapist told me

I could easily feel what others feel. It

Sounded like a superpower, not the ability

to watch someone take a metaphorical bullet

and feel that bullet penetrate my own

heart as if I was standing in their shoes.

It’s not the fun kind of superpower

you deliberate over dinner while trying

to make conversation

that doesn’t feel like it’s constantly

buffering before it gets to the best parts

with someone who

chanced to swipe right over

their morning coffee.

It is not flying.

There is no freedom

in knowing anothfer’s knee buckling

fear that locks them down,

frantically trying not to make their shackles

heavier than lead

your own.

It is not invisibility.

There is no hiding

from balled fists and the small pockets of rage

you didn’t know existed in the small frame

of a human you though you knew

until you felt it

like waves coming from the kindest soul.

It is not telepathy.

Thank goodness.

Because the only thing imaginably worse

than feeling someone’s chest twinge is knowing

what thoughts are paired with their misery

when they’re doubled over sobbing.

Gripping their chest as if their heart might explode.

I’m not equipped to remove the shrapnel from myself.

But nothing is more sobering

Than when you are the cause

When you break the kick boxer’s heart

and every tear is heavy on your chest

engulfed by the ocean that is her sorrow.

You can’t stand

the contours of grief on her forgiving face.

You want to soften those hard lines

with kisses that would make it worse for you

And when you disappoint the girl

with flowers blooming in her heart.

You wilt away at the sharp fuck you

wishing you didn’t know

how your thorns pricked her eager fingers

as she tried to reach across the country for you

Even when the guitarist steels her heart

and your supposed power is no good.

She’s perfected the art of icing you out.

You go mad trying to know how she feels,

but it’s all ice that hasn’t learned how to thaw

and you weren’t warm enough

for the two of you.

I have been the source of pain

Knowing what my victims feel

when I sink sharp words into their

unsuspecting insecurities.

It is with all the hope I possess

in my war torn body

that they know peace

like what I have created

through act after act of self love,

learning to talk to myself

as if I am my own lover.

I wish with all that I have

that they can feel what I feel and know

that the universe loves you

and you owe it nothing.

If I could share my empathic powers

I know I'd only want you to feel

what unconditional love

feels like when it reaches your bones.

When it feels like the warmth of strong

liquor that does not mean

to leave you hungover

but wants to give you the courage

to live unburdened

by fear.

(Photo is not my own.)

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