Starring at the world through a fractured freeze frame Splintering my skin as I draw closer clawing to the faded paint only to end up on the other side To a world as bland and gray as it was on the other side.
jack-frost blue on snow white circles of grey around midnight black against the velvet night sky the silent constellations i fell and fell and fell
i bathed in your irises but my feet couldn't reach the bottom and when i tried to surface the air was frigid slicing my consciousness into ribbons i took a breath the chill seeped in first it was my toes then my legs my stomach my fingers my arms my chest
then you blinked the ice fractured and i i shattered from the inside out
i don't know. i had one of my moods again. haven't had one in a long time. it was not a good feeling.
You broke me. and you had me convinced that the only way to piece me together was by the glue crafted by your empty compliments and counterfeit love.
Where did i learn that you can heal a **** with a knife?
Probably where I learned that if something sounds true, it is.
The song named after you lulled me to a peaceful sleep. My ears unfailingly grasped the soothing rhythm, the reassuring beat, and the promising harmony; but disregarded the ominous lyrics. I shouldn't have been surprised when i woke, ******* by the rope of your unfulfilled promises, silenced by duct tape with the words "I didn't want to hurt you" written across it in washable ink, and with a gun I had given to you for your protection aimed at my head.
I wish you would just shoot me with that gun already It would hurt less than waiting But you wont You keep me at the perfect distance to where you're comfortable and I'm falling apart.
At first it hurt like the waves. the crashing, overbearing waves that were shaped something like your lips when you said you needed time.
But now it hurts like a splinter. the kind that you don't realize you have until you return home from the wooden playground and the excitement-induced adrenaline fades and you realize what seemed like harmless satisfaction sneakily left you with a burdensome wound.
the kind of splinter that you try to remove and realize it hurts less to just let it sit there. even though everyone says that "if you just get past the pain of removing it, you'll be completely relieved." all you can feel is the pain of the extraction so you decide to do nothing and let the lesser pain stay.
A picture on the internet told me That I should write every day Because it would make me stronger. It said to write even when I couldn't But if I couldn't then how could I? That’s the problem.
If I don’t write every day then I become weaker. The weaker I become, the less I write. How can I write to get stronger when I am already too weak to write?
Its like throwing a bird without wings and expecting it to fly. Each time it hits the ground it is closer to dying But it can save itself if it can just fly. But that's the problem!
The bird becomes more jaded every day it doesn't fly And the more jaded he is, the less he wants to. How could he possibly save himself If he is already dying?
Its like slamming a door in a decaying home. The hinges creak and the wood splinters, It comes closer to falling apart with every motion But the people who use it only use it for their own privacy. That’s the problem.
That door creaks and splinters every time it is closed. Keep closing it and there will be no more door, Just an empty space in a wall, Another hallway. There is only one decaying home and only a certain number of doors, Pretty soon they will all fall apart in your hands. It sounds like a metaphor.