The salty breeze
Such a nostalgic smell
As we comb the beach
Looking for shells

As the gulls overhead
Squawk and they cry
We lie in the sun
Not a cloud in the sky

All these unique rocks
As far as can see
And each of them has
Their own story

My hair always tussled
By the breeze
I walk and I smile
And I look out to sea

I heard them saying:
"she goes places sometimes".
I knew they meant I leave sticky notes on their mirrors saying "I'll be back, but don't wait up".

I knew that they meant that I sometimes take the long way home for the view, even if the view is the industrial sight where my ambition died.

I knew they meant that, there are voices in my head that are screaming at me dark thoughts, so loud that sometimes they can hear them too.

I knew that they meant I don't wear yellow anymore because I'm afraid I'll go blind; that my eyes have adjusted to the lack of light that surrounds me.

I knew they meant no harm.
I knew they didn't want me to hear them.

I knew they meant that I practice holding my breath for countless minutes just incase they catch me playing dead in the bathtub again.

I knew they meant that I read the endings of books before starting them so I won't be disappointed. I knew they meant that I'm tired of being disappointed.

I knew they meant that I am weaker than usual; that I don't wear as many sharp edges or that I don't smell like kerosene after it's been set on fire.

that I don't ignite at the sound of pistols, I just welcome bullets.

that I don't walk on the perimeter of the ocean, I just drink the water till the salinity makes me see the world in different colours.

that I'm not afraid of heights, I'm just afraid of falling.
that I wear a kind of loneliness that doesn't wash off.

I knew they were trying their best to be gentle,
but I was trying my best to be tough.

but when you light the world on fire time after time, you get tired of rebuilding walls.

you get tired of looking your best; of drawing attention; of wearing yellow.

you get tired of holding your breath, and you let in the voices.

and you take the long way home, and you don't feel bad that you didn't leave a note.

tell me about all the time you spent rearranging the furniture afraid of the silence being more comfortable than your duvet

FEB 3, 2016

I got sentimental
Through ya words and the sight
You gotta say that you’re there
Beside me
But i know that that’s not fair
You go through my pain
And lend me your glee
Hey ya, why you’re like this?
Betrayed by myself, loved by your words
I gotta tell you my dear
‘cause you’re my lose friend
See the snow is melted into tears
Feeling you get away
And fears that mend themselves alive

© Smit Fairytale