Hold on tight cause you might fall

She felt so hopeful.
This one was different.
This one was easy from hello.
But as each minute passed,
the optimism dissipates
like steam on a mirror
once the door opens.
And try as she might
she couldn't quite shake him.
The thin thread of hope
she clings to with both hands,
fists clenched as though ready for battle.
But she didn't want a fight
or a struggle.
She wanted the ease and simplicity
of the click, the knowing.
To compare the then with the now
would be quite a distance to cover:
From a no-escape, beaming smile
To a pit of despair.
Once again realizing,
she falls too fast.

What's On Your Sleeve?

Nonchalance is not in my repertoire.
I wish it were.
Oh! To be flippant and free
from the weight of opinions
and desires,
To not be bogged down
By the whys and what ifs
and maybes.
But me,
I wear not just my heart
on my sleeve,
but my head, my mouth, my skin,
as well.
And it's impossible not to care
When left exposed like that.
I want to cut myself open,
Tuck them back inside
And sew it all back up.
But the crooked stitches would show:
The flaws left out
for visual fodder.
How do you do it?
Or am I just blind
To the seams and organs?