Secondhand Scars.

And here I am, focusing all of my after-thoughts on you,
when I have my own lessons that are left unlearned.
My own after-thoughts, turned into after-shocks,
when I finally let them in.

I can see now my own faults,
where I let the weight of your quake tear me down.

I forget to step back,
and see love for what it really is.
I don't let my walls down, or your heart in.
I keep everything locked up,
and refuse to believe that you've found a secret passage way, inside.

And even when you do,
I deny and I reject and I refuse.
Because what if they don't approve, of you.

What if it all falls apart, again.
And you leave me here alone, again.
Doesn't that make me a fool?
Doesn't that make me unwanted, and unworthy?

No.

It makes me alone, and it makes me a coward.
Because I can't even let go long enough to let it become real.
Instead, I let go of you.
And I watch you stray away, to someone new.
But I had a hand in the pain that you caused,
and I let that be okay,
but it's not okay.

Because these flaws of mine, weren't born in me.
They're the fuck-ups of others come before me,
making the fuck-ups now that follow me.
My father, my brothers, my lovers, my friends,
your mistakes and hurt have scared me secondhand.
And I'm worried that it's too late for me to quit,
and walk away scar free.