it's the whisper of a weary goodbye caught in a sea of hellos the faintest touch against your lip from a manicured hand or one so callused it's fingertips rough as they glide on your skin it's that feeling of familiarity in a place so foreign where no one knows your name but you or who you are and when you wander around at night to stumble into your kitchen making the pots and pans rattle against each other it's the burning in your chest that goes down your throat and into your stomach birthing butterflies that flutter around it's the cold splashes of water on heated skin the tear stained pillowcases, the tear stained sweaters the near-bleeding red scratches of the night before and the deep blues and purples of a bruise and when you've had enough it's the mind-numbing ringing in your ears and the sudden wash of everything at once when you take those rose-tinted glasses off maybe it's love.
Did you hear that? That shear pain That sounds like scratches on a chalkboard. That horrible sound that makes you think of the last rejection from your crush. Did you think about that one moment that everyone around you knows the truth about you but you That’s funny because you see the truth all around you, All you could hope is that no one notices all the issues in your life Everyone sees what’s going wrong in your life while you are putting on this big cheese smile, Knowing that your whole world is on fire And I don’t mean a little campfire fire, I mean a fire that could take out an entire country A fire that could burns you from the inside out. You can tell who have been fighting this fire within themselves It’s worse when all the people involved end up acting like they know nothing You just have to sit there and wonder what is going to happen next This is that moment that you hear that shear pain all over again You feel that fire that burned you Sometimes you just got to think about how you got there Did you ever think that someone is setting you up to fail? That’s something I always thought about Why, why would someone like myself think that way? Well, let’s get real. Everyone has an agenda, whether you were meant to be there or not. That agenda changes more times than I do into an outfit to go out in Which is upsetting because all I do is try on different sets of shirts to get told “Just wear that, no one is going to care” Sorry that I actually care about my appearance Sorry that you wanted me to just choose one shirt But I am not sorry for making myself look different Because when I am out, I want to be a different person That is my moment to meet someone new, Every time I’ve gone out with my friends I made at least one new friend So I am not sorry for trying on different sets of shirts to remind myself that I am meeting someone new Someone that didn’t know I was going to change their agenda But one thing I will always notice is that once you change someone’s agenda Your agenda stays the same, This one person I met at a bar We chatted it up, I learned they lived in my same borough, they got me a couple of drinks All I gave them was my Facebook profile… Clearly I was making “a move” as my best friend told me That’s the moment that I questioned where my agenda was taking me My agenda wanted me to feel that shear pain again But it raises the question of why does being nice have to look like flirting now? How does that make sense? So if I compliment your outfit, does that mean that I want you in my bed? No...it means that I think your outfit is cute I just can’t even comprehend that thought process of how we got to that point My mother always told me to be nice to everyone I guess that would make me a flirtatious person… But guess what I am not that person I’m the person that fights for what I believes in Fights for the people closest to my heart This is all about that shear pain that makes me think of a scratching on a chalkboard That shear pain wasn’t created physically It was all about the words that was said aloud to me
The marks you left behind after the bruises faded A flinch at a hesitant touch Afraid to be alone with someone Afraid to be touched in a hug It isn't on purpose I swear I just panic at touches even by family From what you left when the bruises had healed over
Don't be afraid to walk out. Don't be afraid to put yourself first. The marks left behind might never heal but it is better then staying in a relationship that only harms you.
hello it's been a while since we've talked you let me become a stranger another face on a milk carton helpless and sad; a lost soul hello it's been a while since we talked i heard you went to my funeral where they buried who i used to be hello a introduction; a greeting but you let my hello turned strangled. hello scratched through my dry throat and when it finally pushed past my cracked lips hello sounded far too much like help
You are strings of pearls that cross thresholds between worlds Little beads of ecstasy threaded through debris You’re a smile in the morning when the sun is fresh and bright You are scratches in the dark when the day has turned to night