outside the lines
Make me feel something.
Anything.
As children, we are directed to color as so:
Draw a heart.
Color it in neatly,
don’t cross the lines.
color in one direction.
don’t press the crayon too hard.
Now, young men & women, break those rules:
cross the lines
strike any which way
break the crayon with pressure; make that heart bleed.
Draw my heart. Make me feel-something, anything.
Color me crazy, color me furiously, fill my heart with so much
bloody color that it crosses where it shouldn’t, touches parts
of me I didn’t know existed; blind me with red. So when you
leave me, I actually shed tears; when we’re oceans apart, I
actually miss you; when you’re with me, I get high off your presence.
Because right now, I’m numb.
I’ve been replaced but only momentary anger strikes & it
easily subsides into apathy.
I’ve been forgotten but only irritation & disappointment
rise before they dispel to indifference within seconds.
I’ve been touched, held, & embraced but felt no lasting butterflies.
I don’t want just a sudden rise of feeling that quickly falls into uncaring.
I want a storm to rage within me, with every rise & fall of my chest.
Maybe it’s really my fault I feel nothing.
Maybe because I looked for passion
from the wrong people.
Maybe because emotion doesn’t reside in me
the way I used to believe it does.
I haven’t seen magic in so long, I’m starting to believe it doesn’t exist.
But if you’re coming,
if I really have passed you a million times but didn’t notice,
if you’re finally finding your way to me,
when you get to me, let your presence be known.
At the first chance you get,
Color my heart crazy.