There is not one man hollow enough
To place all myself inside.
There is no one to be a cave to my secrets,
A barren land for me to paint myself upon.
There are none with hands so empty
They could hold my troubles and my dreams
Without letting them slip between the spaces.
I am too much, I fear,
For anyone to want to enclose,
Too much of a feeler,
Too much of a bitch,
A lover,
A dreamer,
A taker.
Too selfish for any love to seep out myself and into them.
Too much of a woman to breathe inside.
And I am too empty,
Too volatile,
Too mean,
To be tamed or taught,
Saved or lost
Inside a man not big enough for me.
