he wrote my life down like he was me.
he saw the tears i cried and the words i spoke and the lies i told saying
"its alright, i'm okay."
the days i hid away were the ones he would be happy,
but happiness only leaked if you were willing to accept the fact that i was broken.
he locked his eyes into mine
and i couldn't find the key,
so he opened his mouth like these words were going to come out and be my first aid kit
leading towards the light,
failure nailed into a lonely pit,
but he smiled.
the deep inhales
and heavy exhales were my life
communicated in disasters
only to be plastered by my sighs.
and the words
"no i'm just tired"
came out more than the hours i spent washed up on a winters day
without a smile or something to say so say it.
say the words like you mean,
no twisted vocabulary,
the laughs may vary,
not many people know about feelings.
though feelings lead to love
love leads to hate,
be my fate by the reason i wake up every morning.
be the sunshine that will help me ignore the closed door of family.
the scattered songs
or the long days and nights with prosperous fights with envy as my gun and no shield.
the disparity and loneliness of home only cut me down more,
the scars opened into black holes and only oblivion was taken in by them while i nodded
accepting that my black hole was only me and myself.
i only heal my wounds to hide them
i'm not hiding any more.
he wrote
"i found you."
i found me to.