Nov 2015
Sometimes words lose their grandeur at the same time I drop dishes and bite my tongue and bruises form and I forget to say it back.
Sometimes I forget how small I am and really I am so small and remembering the way someone takes their coffee doesn't mean you care.
I have been myself in small intervals and with each time change a stranger with my skin crawls into it's place, coughing up 8 in the morning on Saturday's and crumpled sticky notes with ink smudges.
The fever rising fixation on having pen on paper pen on skin scribbling thoughts that are fastened to trains without brakes.
Pen on walls pen on something, something that'll hold it together longer than you can.
I've heard airports see more sincere kisses than wedding halls and hospitals hold more prayers than churches.
Maybe that's why I started buying plane tickets and stopped talking to God.
We missed the last train out of the city, I haven't been awake at night in a while. I haven't seen the darker parts of the city since you.
Nothing like the town so quiet all the kids must have already left for college and for jobs and to make their own babies in other quiet towns.
All the houses on our street have the same fathers so we wash our hands before meals and pray to our church for forgiveness because all the kids at school have been saying it's your fault that daddy left mommy.
I guess at that party we were all lonely
Strangers starting to seem okay to talk to,
you have a better chance of getting picked up in a van by the older boys at the end of your street. Making you drink bottled love while doing donuts on First.
I find it hard to say I am stronger than my brother's when I've spent a lot more time holding my breath than tying their shoes.
I've become my mother in more than just one way, we both know facing it and not having the strength to leave are two different things.
And I never meant to give the key to someone who would make copies but lose the original.
I guess at that party we were all thinking too much
That party only celebrated pity and I only pitied myself.
So it was a couch full of me and a room full of you.
Sometimes I forget how small I am and maybe sometimes I'm not as small as I thought.
Sometimes words lose their grandeur at the same time I build towers out of them.
Sometimes I forget how small I am and really I am so small and remembering the way someone takes their coffee doesn't mean you care.
I have been myself in small intervals and with each time change a stranger with my skin crawls into it's place, coughing up 8 in the morning on Saturday's and crumpled sticky notes with ink smudges.
The fever rising fixation on having pen on paper pen on skin scribbling thoughts that are fastened to trains without brakes.
Pen on walls pen on something, something that'll hold it together longer than you can.
I've heard airports see more sincere kisses than wedding halls and hospitals hold more prayers than churches.
Maybe that's why I started buying plane tickets and stopped talking to God.
We missed the last train out of the city, I haven't been awake at night in a while. I haven't seen the darker parts of the city since you.
Nothing like the town so quiet all the kids must have already left for college and for jobs and to make their own babies in other quiet towns.
All the houses on our street have the same fathers so we wash our hands before meals and pray to our church for forgiveness because all the kids at school have been saying it's your fault that daddy left mommy.
I guess at that party we were all lonely
Strangers starting to seem okay to talk to,
you have a better chance of getting picked up in a van by the older boys at the end of your street. Making you drink bottled love while doing donuts on First.
I find it hard to say I am stronger than my brother's when I've spent a lot more time holding my breath than tying their shoes.
I've become my mother in more than just one way, we both know facing it and not having the strength to leave are two different things.
And I never meant to give the key to someone who would make copies but lose the original.
I guess at that party we were all thinking too much
That party only celebrated pity and I only pitied myself.
So it was a couch full of me and a room full of you.
Sometimes I forget how small I am and maybe sometimes I'm not as small as I thought.
Sometimes words lose their grandeur at the same time I build towers out of them.
