Don’t touch me.
You may hear my words and find ways to try to anchor and align yourself to my experiences but you can’t fully feel the weight.
and I know for damn sure, you can’t hold this up by yourself.
Don’t touch me.
Trying to lean on me while I, for the both of us, do the work and give my all to get through this cause we all know that if I can do it
you sure as hell can pass through with much more ease - get off me
Don’t touch me.
Stealing words that l i t e r a l l y have come out of my mouth and keeping them as your own,
{Ursula poor unfortunate soul}/Don’t touch me.
So much so, that you forget who or where you heard it from and repeat it back to me as if I didn’t dig to find and arrange the words myself – words that could finally express a fraction of the humiliation done onto me.
I said: “Don’t. touch me.”
Wiping your spit off my face as I smile and nod my head in agreement, while inside I scream THAT WAS F(ROM)OR ME//Don’t touch me.
Stop telling me about your shit – I’ve got enough of that and have learned to build my home, my life, my reality with it (Welcome to my humble abode)Don’t fucking touch me.
You want an audience everywhere you go while I grow more and more tired every second of always being that for you.
get off me.