an exercise in giving upI don’t know what I’m doing in this place.
My bones ache to take me away – to take me anywhere but here. But my heart remembers this place and its beat is racing, pumping blood into the far corners of my body, making my limbs too heavy to move. But I want to leave so badly, with every part of my being, but the one. My heart still belongs here…even after all these years.
I don’t remember the last time I saw your face.
But I can tell you that I still hear your voice in my dreams. In the deepest of sleeps, you’re still alive inside of me, deep within the folds of my heart, the dark spaces of my imagination. You’re alive there, even though I know nothing of where you are in reality. I know nothing of you anymore. Maybe that’s for the better. Maybe. Maybe.
I can’t recall the first time that I heard time will make it better.
But I do know that my mom repeats it to me every Saturday when I go to visit her in that old house that’s fu
it stings like a million bees when i describe itthere are words in the dictionary for you and me
but somehow there's always a gap
between the definitions
and what we truly are.
i feel like a forgery hanging on a wall,
brush strokes imitating what i should have been -
but it's bolted stuck
and i can't
tear it down -
i scratch off layers of paint, wish i had no face at all,
no body and no voice. (what i have is not mine.)
my fingernails are torn, bloodied,
but it makes no difference
that i ripped the canvas
when the repainted picture
show the truth.
yeah, but it could be a myth-cnote to self:
you'll find someone. really you will.
you'll find someone since you just have to. since it hurts to feel this sort of inside out. maybe this time you'll find someone who won't spill dandelion wishes down your throat forcing you to swallow all these words like lies and beliefs like truths and every in between that makes you want to come undone. and maybe this time, your someone won't spread through you replacing your veins with roots as he becomes an integral part of your survival. because eventually, this boy who's spread through you like a sickness will pull away from you ripping out your insides, ripping out your silly little hope, ripping out the useless organ that doesn't beat synchronized anyways. and you just need to realize that boys like that are more common than the fields of weeds that decorate the sides of these country highways. i promise you deserve something more. you deserve something different. i promise. i promise.
maybe you'll meet him in an art m