What can you do when your heart and your head are at war with each other? Each wants what is best for you but one is willing to do whatever it takes while the other wants to protect itself from the hurt it has felt before. Somedays your logic takes over, you overanalyze everything, every move you make calculated. Don't do anything unless it makes sense, fits the logistics of the future that you know guides you towards the most sensical path. Other days your emotion takes over, sends your spiraling down a trail that leads you into the thick of it, no matter the risk nor the reward. A consistent battle between the most powerful parts of you. Until the liquid courage passes over your lips, prying them open and unloading the burden of both your heart and head. Creating a scenario that leaves neither with a say over what is thought nor felt. The most raw thoughts and feelings pour out for better or worse. Unable to put them back from where they came, unsure whether or not you would even really want to. Occasionally a beautiful mess forms where lips, heart and head all want to shout the same message for everyone to hear. You know in the depths of your soul that you shouldn't, ultimately though it doesn't matter, the words burn bright and red hot inside of you. They spill out all over the paper crumpled from your shaky hands. Wet from the tears that fall from your eyes when you have nothing left to lose. Slowly filled up with everything you have to say. Forming in front of you, never meant to see the day of light. Maybe that's why they only appear at night when you're forced to be alone, wishing to be him. Wanting to be the man that gets to hold her as if everything is right in a world that leaves you feeling like everything is wrong. Unsure of the next step to take but knowing you want to take it even if it's straight off the edge of the cliff. What if it isn't though, what if that next step is the only thing preventing you from being the guy she thinks about when she sings? You're that close to being the guy she talks about in her stories. Does she actually know that when you walk into a room she's the only one you look for? In her heart, in her head, are you him? During those long nights will she be the one you hold tight while you smoke together breathing it in slowly? I'm dying inside to tell you what I think, what I feel, what my lips are aching to let you know. If only you were on the level I am tonight, maybe your lips would feel the same. Craving to tell me how you feel, good or bad, at least then I would know. No shadow of a doubt remaining. No more questions. No more curiosities and wondering. Straight forward, honest answers to everything I have thought and quarried since I first laid eyes upon you. You aren't the type to give into those inhibitions though. Certain things will remain the way they have been, never to alter or grow. The poison that I use to numb myself isn't something you have any interest in. Instead I am stuck asking myself if I could ever be him, or will I always just be the man wishing that together we could smoke slow.
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 10:49 PM UTC
What can you do when your heart and your head are at war with each other? Each wants what is best for you but one is willing to do whatever it takes while the other wants to protect itself from the hurt it has felt before. Somedays your logic takes over, you overanalyze everything, every move you make calculated. Don't do anything unless it makes sense, fits the logistics of the future that you know guides you towards the most sensical path. Other days your emotion takes over, sends your spiraling down a trail that leads you into the thick of it, no matter the risk nor the reward. A consistent battle between the most powerful parts of you. Until the liquid courage passes over your lips, prying them open and unloading the burden of both your heart and head. Creating a scenario that leaves neither with a say over what is thought nor felt. The most raw thoughts and feelings pour out for better or worse. Unable to put them back from where they came, unsure whether or not you would even really want to. Occasionally a beautiful mess forms where lips, heart and head all want to shout the same message for everyone to hear. You know in the depths of your soul that you shouldn't, ultimately though it doesn't matter, the words burn bright and red hot inside of you. They spill out all over the paper crumpled from your shaky hands. Wet from the tears that fall from your eyes when you have nothing left to lose. Slowly filled up with everything you have to say. Forming in front of you, never meant to see the day of light. Maybe that's why they only appear at night when you're forced to be alone, wishing to be him. Wanting to be the man that gets to hold her as if everything is right in a world that leaves you feeling like everything is wrong. Unsure of the next step to take but knowing you want to take it even if it's straight off the edge of the cliff. What if it isn't though, what if that next step is the only thing preventing you from being the guy she thinks about when she sings? You're that close to being the guy she talks about in her stories. Does she actually know that when you walk into a room she's the only one you look for? In her heart, in her head, are you him? During those long nights will she be the one you hold tight while you smoke together breathing it in slowly? I'm dying inside to tell you what I think, what I feel, what my lips are aching to let you know. If only you were on the level I am tonight, maybe your lips would feel the same. Craving to tell me how you feel, good or bad, at least then I would know. No shadow of a doubt remaining. No more questions. No more curiosities and wondering. Straight forward, honest answers to everything I have thought and quarried since I first laid eyes upon you. You aren't the type to give into those inhibitions though. Certain things will remain the way they have been, never to alter or grow. The poison that I use to numb myself isn't something you have any interest in. Instead I am stuck asking myself if I could ever be him, or will I always just be the man wishing that together we could smoke slow.
