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Jan 2017
It's nights like these that I tend to think about you,
Don't get me wrong, I think about you all the time,
Just nights like these in particular seem to stand out,
It's like you're watching me,
Like you're leaning over my shoulder,
Like some kind of guardian angel,
Yeah, I know you weren't anywhere near an angel, I'd just like to think you were,
Like I've been through so much with so many people that it's just nice to think that there's something good chasing away the bad,
I know we all wish it really worked like that

She sat there on that same exact bench at the same exact time every single day,
And you watched her like clockwork,
Too afraid to introduce yourself or even look at her other than from the corner of your eye,
Her favorite trees were cherry blossoms,
Her favorite color, violet,
Her grandmother lived on the coast,
None of these are true, you're just imagining these things to give yourself some kind of grip here,
Some kind of confidence in the fact that you're lonely now,
So lonely to the point where you think the birds in your backyard enjoy your company more than your friends do,
And you record yourself singing into your phone because you always wanted to see what it would be like to hear something other than the thoughts that take your ears and tie them into knots,
Consistently,
Destruction from the inside out,
Everything is pretty,
No matter what

I remember specifically the night you told me that I was everything you needed,
It didn't matter how drunk you were or how vulnerable I was, I'll hold onto that idea forever,
I know I'm nowhere near you but that never stopped me from trying,

You know that feeling you get when you're home but you just don't feel at home?
That feeling of uneasiness that just swallows you up and spits out your bones,
It's hard here

I've been in the river for as long as I can remember,
I just can't remember when I started trying to swim against the current instead of going along with it,
I just keep getting cut to pieces, bleeding everything out, everything, I can feel it,
The winds are as sharp as sheep shears,
We are all suffering here

Not dead but dreaming,
Numb to the feeling,
Alone in the morning after being held through the night,
Around her in the evening, looking at the moon as if it's her radiating that light,
It's hard here

She kisses my lips every chance she gets but I can't wait to kiss her goodbye,
Walking through the flowers and feeling the sunshine in the sky,
The way she seeps into my veins and makes me warm, nothing but lies,
It's hard here

I am breaking my own heart trying to save myself from her,
Depression isn't beautiful, in fact she's a liar,
We are all suffering here
Richie Vincent
Written by
Richie Vincent  21/M/Dayton, OH
(21/M/Dayton, OH)   
269
   Angie Marcano
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