I said I’d always be honest,
but I lie right through my teeth
when I say that I’m okay.
I guess it’s kind of like
how you said you’d
always want to stay.
I am constantly on a steady diet
of “goodbyes”, “farewells”, and “let go’s”.
At least I’ll never go hungry
with everyone always leaving.
I’m tired.
My head refuses to sleep.
My hands are never steady.
I used to think scars
were things that couldn’t heal,
but now I understand
they’re just reminders
of all the love that I could feel;
even if the vacancy sign
on my bones flickers dimly.
Memories keep clogging my veins,
inconsistencies have clouded my vision.
I’ve learned that honesty is relative
when words can change their meaning.