That which glitters is not always gold Those who wander are not always lost Those who are alive are not always living And those who are dead are not always gone
I lost the power to write long words about you back when you lost faith in what I had to offer. Instead you have become a jumbled mess on paper, the only problem on the sheet I can't solve. I have begged for reconciliation for months now, traveled down a path you paved just for me to find that you built a concrete wall with a ladder only on your side. I deserve so much more than this.
who I want to be is trapped beneath my skin, stretching stretching, tearing at my seams. she cries, "let him go and the wound will set me free. oh, god, please."
I spread out everything I had inside of me on your living room floor in small, neat stacks. I said fix me fix me fix me please but you didn't know how.