You stood there
feeling the Earth turn
and your heart yearn
to stand there
feeling nothing move
so you can prove
will save you from all
and you can stall
and stand there
You got bitter. Funnily enough, you came with your own disclaimer.
"Hi, Honey. I’m going to get bitter, but don’t take it personally; I still want to be friends."
So I was prepared. But… Damn, babe.
I’m not over it.
The sentence I never said. The only full truth I’ve ever spoken. Fucking sad.
So the way I see it, we are of the same- stuff. You won’t believe me, I know. You see me weak. I see you strong. Neither assumptions are true. What is worse is I feel this pull. I have the will to live without ever thinking or hearing from you again, but I also haven’t the will. I haven’t the motivation. Funnily enough, though there was a time I swear you tried to make me hate you, I don’t. It’s as though you’ve been there my whole life, watched my whole life, read my mind, seen my fears and memorized my secrets my entire life. It is almost as if you’ve stood off the side as I’ve run around my playground, winning games, getting into fights, skinning my knees… and occasionally I look up and feel this absurd desire to run to you. I’m thrilled, and scared. Doesn’t matter who I’m with or what I’m doing; your undercurrent is a constant thing. All it takes is a thought, a word- not even directed at me, nor even spoken to me…god….I don’t know. Don’t worry. I’ll stay on my playground. I won’t wander. Just had to say it. Don’t want you thinking I’ve forgotten you.
When you are the one who holds the knife
in the tired hand by your side
and you’re standing in the remains of life
well what once seemed alive
once your eyes have glimpsed your crimes
the consequences are just there
What claim do you have to any right to cry?
Yesterday marked a year of this mode of expression. Cool.