Last night we screamed.
You broke things,
I ran.
This morning we hugged.
You apologized and I could tell that you meant it this time
because you cried and you begged me to stay
and you cried.
That's how it works, right?
People cry when they mean things?
Or has every day just been practice
and last night only the dress rehearsal
leading up to your main act right here
kneeling in front of me
on a tile floor glued together by lies
and a carpet woven by false love.
And I know that I should pay more attention
to the man behind the curtain
but right now, in this moment, I forget.
I forget the thunderstorm in your voice
I forget the earthquake in your fist
and the volcano in your eyes.
I forget the fear that made me sleep in my car
I forget the sadness that made me want to end my life
I forget the manipulation that made me think it was all my fault.
Because in this moment, none of it matters.
Because people cry when they mean things.
Right?