-- Posted by well well well at 9:42 pm on July 9, 2009 Soreness saturates my muscles. Exhaustion rules me. Mentally and physically, my prime condition is Far away, right now. Too sharp to hug, she told me. Too sharp to hug. With a personality so similar to my aunt's, I almost closed the conversation with     "I love you", Rather than     "how much is my co-pay again?" I have been, for too long, Stuck in my own mind, unable to Respond to the world around me, when I 'retreat and regress' back into, A different place. Too sharp to hug. When my shoulderblades, mountains themselves,      The Rockies in that they're sharp, but,      The Appalachians in that they're worn down. Tower over the valley of my spine, The bumpy line that sticks out like rocks, Across a river, a pathway from one side, To the other, for children to Run and skip and jump on. And my hipbones, on the shore, Two trees with a concave hammock of a stomach, In between, with my rabbit hole of a Belly button, in place so nonchalantly. Through the woods of extra hairs, To keep me warm when my body doesn't understand Why the weight comes off so fast, Pathways through the indentations, Between my ribs. I get lost in this place. I have been lost here many times. I'm starting to doubt that I'll ever escape From this hell of wrong turns, and dead ends, And trick mazes, and failure, and exhaustion. But what bothers me the most,                                                    Is the isolation Of being lost in a world that Only I know about,                 To begin with. Because who's going to find you, If they don't know the place you're lost in,                                                  Exists? If they've never been there,                            Themselves? Even if they do find you, Who's going to hold you,      If you're too sharp to hug? -- Posted by doTHEchickenDANCE at 9:46 pm on July 9, 2009 Aw that sounds realy sad. Its a good poem. and I dont know what else to say, but I really do hope you get better.