I never know when it starts.
not when it comes to her.
maybe it was 2 days ago,
when someone didn’t smile at her,
or maybe 2 weeks ago
when it started raining.
maybe it was 2 years ago,
on Christmas because **** always goes down on winter break.
Maybe sadness was always with her,
maybe it never left,
maybe it never will.
Maybe that’s who she is,
a nostalgic smile.
she’s somehow infinite,
She never really starts or ends,
and yet time goes by so fast,
She disappears,
no promises,
and maybe just maybe,
if you’re important enough,
she’ll notice when you leave,
I never know when it starts.
She seems so far.
Her eyes are always clouded,
under those thick lashes of hers,
covered in mascara and dried tears.
If you’re lucky enough,
she might answer your questions,
she might laugh at your jokes,
and maybe just for a second,
she might close her eyes when you hold her hand,
And let down her barriers,
just for a split second
that seems to last forever.
She feels so close.
I never know when it starts,
her sadness I mean.
It’s familiar,
a shadow behind every ray of sunshine she produces,
because she’s an angel this human,
Regular angel,
with bleached hair and painted lips,
soft voice and soft hands,
apologetic smiles,
when she says she’s doing well but isn’t sure.
I like to think I know her,
the one who does her makeup on facetime,
and plays the piano in the dark.
And I like to think I know when she starts to feel okay,
this girl who chooses her earrings every morning,
I like to think I’m important enough
For her to notice when I leave.
She’s somehow simple,
under her labels of “complex”
she’s a very human little angel
with her bleached hair and painted lips,
soft voice and soft hands,
I never know when it starts,
not when it comes to her,
but I like to think,
I can somewhat understand.
When she plays,
this girl we all want to know,
she takes you with her,
in memories, you don’t have
and moment’s you haven’t lived,
places you haven’t seen.
Get out of my life
i beg you