Maybe I’m writing to remember. Maybe I’m writing to forget. I just know that graphite stains my hands more often than blood now That I’m drawing portraits of people I know will never return I’m spilling my memories on a keyboard and hoping something will come of it Some sort of peace.
She didn’t like washing paint off Because she felt it carried memories That the stains were more beautiful than the art That somehow the chaos was the only thing that could capture her emotions.
I think I’m beginning to understand her Little by little As all of the words I say are never enough They aren’t tragic or beautiful or pieced together in ways that make my heart weep And my burdened shoulders light. It’s the mess around them that pulls me one step closer to the light.
And he was the opposite. Careful and calm and put together Every word and every brush ****** and every careful curve of his lips into a smile He meant everything he did Like I wish I could.
But everything I do has meaning So maybe I should take refuge in that Let it pluck at my heart strings Let it make me feel again.
They might’ve been my best friends Or just another half forgotten dream. I’m having more of those lately And it scares me. Reality is twisting and I don’t know what is real I don’t know what has actually happened. I don’t know if I saw anyone last night Or if the figure stalking in the rain was just another nightmare.
And someone handed me a slip of paper And I search everywhere and can’t find it And maybe it was a dream Maybe everything is breaking down into that half remembered daze of waking And nothing is actually real anymore.
Maybe their chaos and order Was just a beautiful dream That I wish would spill into a memory.