to watch myself shrink down small enough to enter
into the crack of your doorway made me realize a
lot about how i stretched myself out just to have
memories that were almost phantasmagoric. the
beauty naturally made way for the beast, letting the
claws grip her by the throat. it was almost like wild
flowers shedding their petals for winter. it wasn't
a choice to place myself behind the barrel of the gun.
it was a matter of being a martyr, just to live with
something to believe in. now that i think about it,
the signs were all there. the gut feeling of uncertainty
always sat in my stomach uncomfortably even when
i sat her down, told her how important i saw her, and
she lied straight to my ******* face. it was a matter of
not seeing what was always there behind the scenes.
when i met you, i had that same phantasmagoric
feeling about you. not for one second have i ever
doubted you, nor have i doubted every single time
i got to see you. that was the big difference. i've
been reaching for things that are dead for so long,
i've forgotten how to be alive. thanks for being a
teacher of sorts, to teach me how to live again.