My head brushed the bottoms of clouds blending my thoughts into dreams.
Nightmares were already reality so really there was nowhere to run. Not even slow...
I say "This side up. Fragile."
See i was a cardboard kid cut out of cereal boxes no longer able to sit up straight. Soggy from milk and everything else. My arrow is down like my eyes on the side walk as i try to find a balance between depressed and okayyyy....?
Every tiptoe on the curb... I kick at nothing and hold my breath at every crack hoping it won't swallow me whole but still hoping it will slow me down. Make me still like a stain. They never truly leave and so we are left with a memory.
I was never "decoration."
I was hot chocolate on white blouses and liquid lipstick on collars of shirts not my own. I'm leaving and im disastrous. But... I will not be forgotten.

I was seventy percent water and thirty percent something i could not quite define.
I wanted to be witty... Thin and pretty. They called me too tall due to the fact that i could never reach the top shelf. I made that nickname up myself. I like irony and people who use their hands while telling stories.
I enjoy watching people's emotions skip across their face. We are a predictable people and you thought you were hiding behind a mask but your acting wasn't so great.
No one cared enough to look a little closer or stay a little longer. Every laugh you laughed has gotten quieter instead of louder and im afraid to find you again we'll need a ladder. You think on cotton clouds made of candy and kick yourself because you thought no one could see. Im paying attention darling and i can see you're not shallow. You were a puddle so deep they believed you were imaginary. They don't care but you're not alone. Just lonely. Would you like to join me?

You are 70 percent water and thirty percent something i cannot define but i know that it's lovely

Someone once told me that time was not real
Made up
Just some concept but i believe he is in denial
The evidence is in the aging faces around us
It is in birth and death
and i find it so wonderful how beautifully helpless we are
You will die and in a while there will be no one to remember how good your mother's homemade pies were
or that you could do ALL of your splits But we have memories of eachother although we die at least we go together and... To me that is enough.