Busy mind, busy me.
Busy me minding my busy.
Busy, you see, minding me.
I’m busy all the time and we
Remind me of how busy
My mind used to be
For you.
Busy you, minding me
Busily rushing through, dizzy.
Dizzily stumbling around the truth
Hoping we wouldn’t be
Too busy minded to see
Still Polaroid’s in all the scenes.
Images golden and sweet
Nostalgically tasting honey
These funny memories made by Bees
Busy Bees
Like you and me.
Some think is bothering me
It’s getting underneath my skin
I’m feeling the slow pressures
Of a feeling sinking in
I remembered what it was like
To want to not to be
As I sit here asking
What’s right about being me?
Don’t tempt fait by looking in my eyes
You know i wear this face in disguise
So why
Do you pull me beneath with that sigh?
Thinking of things, hinting, waiting
For me to give in and cry.
Tear drops moulding lines and I’ve broken
I beg you not to use me, you have me, open
But it always ends the same way when you leave it all darker, hopeless in pain.
This thinking my think reminds me some think is bothering me of late.
It’s funny feeling content
Once again
I remember what it meant.
I wonder where it went.
In the time that I had spent
Wasted on what I dreamt
Was me trying to prevent,
fighting against, torment?

I remember my descent
From this feeling of content.
Elliot Munro Jul 8
I care.
Of corse I care.
I know you think I’ve forgotten,
That I’ve moved on.
Its hard to move on when I feel like we did nothing wrong.
When I know I still want to whisper words to you.
The same few I said when you smiled at me. That moment was perfect.
I didn’t need you to say it back. I never have. But I hoped that one day you could.
It frightens me that I will never feel that, or any other word from you ever again. And that the last thing you said was ‘it never had to be this way’. It did. I opened up my heart to you, but you had a boyfriend, so I went. True I left. I couldn’t be your friend, because thats what loving you meant. A certainty too intense. Else, I was stuck in limbo surrounded by white walls, a room slowly filling with black paint until… until. I saw him through the ripples in dark liquid, feeling you, clueless of what you really mean. My life was in perpetual pause in front of a big-screen projection. Waiting for the hoping for the moment of a day, when you hold me and our heartbeats melt in pendulous sway.
This one really is my heart on a plate. Its the most honest and open I've written. If this person ever read this they'd know it was about them.
Elliot Munro Jul 7
The feeling when the sun is piercing a clear blue sky and you can see it through a window bringing peace in sluggish time. It’s entrancing and you appreciate it’s glare. This day is perfect you think as you stare, eyes closed. But you look out from a window that is on a shaded side. The beams won’t touch you and this day won’t heal your mind. So for the next dawn you wait, on the shaded side.
Elliot Munro Jul 6
Break it
Braving the
Sees me
Repeating cycles of
Toxic masculin
It teases me
Seeping in
Claiming what’s mine
The mind.
Beginning again
A grinning ‘been there’
The light singeing my hairs
As is breaks through the skin
A break in
So break
Break it
Braving the
Elliot Munro Jul 6
There was younce a ong man named Billy
He knew his brilly was so srain
He went to the docblem
And they told him his protor
Was heartbreak.

His wuddled were now mords
And young Boubled was trilly
Because love would never be the same.
This one is a bit of an experiment. The words are deliberately muddled so it takes a small bit of figuring out. I see it almost like a little riddle or puzzle; confusing but a representation of what’s going on in the ‘persons’ head.
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