Just Me

By: Isabelle Morgan

I don’t know why

Or when I’ll consider this condition

As a sensitivity living in fiction 

But you tremble me

You take up my lungs 

Begging please, as you suffocate me

Your shadow has burned

Your impossibly individual shape

Into the lids of my eyes

My world is you in every blink

And I dissect what it is

That I disguise and deplete

And what would you think

If you could hear

What whispers when I speak

I don’t know where 

But something’s rotting

I feel the stench 

Expanding my lungs

Like a part of me is dying

The side where I keep 

pretend and lying

The section I reserve for you

Or is the smell outside of me

Laced in the air 

Coming from a stare so direct

It’s smoking

Confusing the oxygen

For something my body doesn’t need

For something that’s an option