Turning the page on a chapter that was hell.
Hoping by some miracle the story will change plots.
And if not,
I’ll just burn the whole **** thing.
Start all over and hope for the best.

A glass is a glass
until the glass leaves you f’d up.
Fighting the midnight train in some bubbly
that drowns you into abyss.
You can’t hold on,
because holding feels far worse than letting go.
So you let go with the glass still in your hand.
The hole still in your heart.

I showed up at your doorstep
all kinds of confused,
clouded by the way we let things fall.
It was my fault,
my mess that I threw at your face.
Like bullets,
I said everything that tore us apart.
I trashed not only you and I,
I trashed myself.
Tore apart everything about me.
Shattered and dropped what we had to the floor like glass.
And now these **** thoughts won’t let me get over them.
So here I’m am,
standing in the rain six feet apart,
hoping you’ll open the door.
Because as much as the confusion is begging me walk away,
the apologies in my heart won’t let me go.

I’m sorry...

If it’s the last thing I ever say,
or the last thing you hear of me,

I’m sorry.

Scary and unknowing,
I turn off the noise.
Too much,
too little,
and the days don’t go fast enough.
If I take another breathe at least I know I’m still here.
Life is so broken now,
and the world we took for granted leaves us all connected.
Home becomes the constant,
and the things that once were so normal are temporarily gone.
We find other ways to pass the hours.
So in this scary and unknowing time,
I turn off the noise.

I feel as I feel.
It’s my own,
and not anyone else does it belong to.
No one can tell me how or why,
when or where.
No one can turn me into something I’m not.
I feel not just with heart,
but deep within my soul.
Emotions may get the best of me sometimes,
but they are mine,
and with them I’m reminded of every beat and every breath of what is real.

He turns,
but every way is wrong,
and all roads lead to lines crossed.
The signs ahead don’t help,
he’s more confused than ever,
and sadly defeat surrounds his every waken bone.
If only he could find what made him smile once upon a long time ago,
then maybe he’d be okay.

Heart still beating,
blood still moving,
head still hurting,
and eyes still blinking.
I’m alive.
Alive,
and still here.