and by far away i mean like countries away

belonging, pt. 0

a country far away mourning for one girl,
& a girl far away mourning for a country.

a poem about missing something you’re
not quite sure exists / that is to say loving
something without knowing it’s real.
i think that’s what i’ve been doing my 
whole life. i still ask myself whether this
is a Bad Thing. 

you see, i can only admit i love myself
when i’m feeling unreal /

i look at my hand that doesn’t feel like a 
hand & then i make myself kiss it & this is
okay because if it doesn’t feel real it doesn’t
feel like mine & that means i can pretend
it’s someone else’s. loving others has always
come easily, anyway (although that’s becoming
harder, too, & now i keep wondering if this
is a Bad Thing). 

a poem about feeling unreal a lot, bones
hanging onto flaps of skin & tendons slashed
& exposed. a poem about the unreal being
loveable & the corporeal being sickening.