There are times,
Where I want to sing,
Your name and mine,
Tangled in the same tune,
Dancing with the syllables,
All the notes and nothings,
Around and around,
Into the evening hours,
There are times,
Where I have cried,
Familiar faces on morning news,
Funerals for the friends lost,
Childhood ends far too early,
So many nights forgotten,
Sunday morning service,
Prayers for the wrongs I committed,
In the hours prior,
There are times*,
Where I reflected on the memories,
August took a piece of me,
Everything was full of life,
We never even wondered,
About what would become of us,
In the sunrise that followed.

I hurt myself on a piece of glass today.
A perfect slice, etched into my skin...
Beautiful burgundy oozed from the cut.

A split second of watching myself heal.
I soon realise....
You will leave me with a faint scar.

I licked the liquid away...
with a laugh and a smile.
It was only an accident... a mistake.

Never let another say no.

I should have pushed.
I should have shoved.

I let it happen.
Now im stuck wondering..

A cruel and heartless obsession…
I am only ever seen as a possession.

I want you to
pick something.
It can be anything:
integrity,
last Thursday,
your grandmother's
socks.
I don't care what it is
but I want you to
pick that something
out of all the
other somethings
and I want you to
believe in it,
I want you to
scrunch your eyes
up tight and
slow your breathing and
put all your energy
into that singular
belief.
And while you are
busy believing in that
something
I will believe
in you.