Have you ever watched the intrinsic
workings of an introverts soul?
We hide deep within the shadows
listening as shoes are worn tread bare.
We scuttle through raindrops
feeling the celestial embrace upon our skin.
We roar into empty skies at twilight
with the moon caressing silent thoughts.
But if you look real close,
if you pay attention to our inaudible beat,
you can see us skipping across powder puff clouds
of white searching in emerald skies of blue,
dancing to natures frequency,
singing to the birds symphony.
Have you ever seen the intrinsic
workings of an introverts soul?
I leave a shard of myself in the shadows
A soft echo of spirit, she moves with care
unseen by all, she is delicacy, vulnerability
she is the binding Celtic knot. She is my net
when I fall, my enough my embrace my love.
I leave a shard of me in the shadows
where few think to glance as they tango
through me in a tantalised dance.
I’m an introvert and in my perfect world there would be no need for communication. We would instead converse directly, telepathically, there would be no need for eye contact, or finding the right words, I wouldn’t need to muddle through my thoughts and translate my poetic musings into dialogue and fuck adjacency pairing (conversational turn taking), fuck, fuck adjacency pairing. And don’t touch me, please, I can see you need to hug a random stranger and that’s your business, I will not judge, but please, don’t make me that person. Don’t think at any point it is okay to get up in my space and let your skin come even close to mine, it’s not okay…i’m not broken, don’t look at me with those displeasing eyes, i’m sorry that you think me the rude one when I recoil from your touch or when suddenly I stop talking and fucking blush. Listen and I will speak but don’t expect to find me talking in the crowds, instead I like to watch hidden by my shroud. Lead into privacy where my voice alone can rise. Fuck, I am a walking contradiction. There are millions, billions perhaps of nerve endings sitting beneath the skin waiting to be triggered, waiting to shoot out mini fucking canons every single time they are stroked gently as though you were petting a cat, i’m not a fucking cat, do not pet me. Get out of my personal space, my muscles are tight from resisting the urge to go bat shit crazy…it’s like tickling my fucking nerve endings then walking away, now the fuckers are awake they need to feel, they need the deep penetration of touch, fuck, fuck, fuck. I sometimes think I truly despise people, I mean that in a nice way :). It’s times like this when I am very aware of my contradictions, I hate being touched, I hate being hugged and fuck me I hate when people think it’s okay to touch without permission. I love touch when it’s done right, I love deep touch that I can truly feel, not gentle tiny fucking annoying strokes. I hate having to talk with people, I like living inside my little bubble, I like being alone, I like solitude…I love talking with the right people, I love talking to those that know my silence means nothing more than an invitation for them to crawl on up inside my mind. I hate small talk I like real talk. I hate talking about how I feel I fucking love talking about how I feel! I hate talking about my thoughts and feelings and yet fucking hell they spill onto the page as though my life depended upon it. I’m a worthy walking contradiction, a beautifully quirky contradiction…just don’t touch me or hug me or fucking stroke me like a cat, don’t assume I’m an extrovert because of my self confidence, loving myself is easy :). I know i’m kinda hard, but the clues are clearly there just know that if I say it, it means I truly care.