My body is covered with tattoos
I made them with thoughts, ones I created with memories, ones that are considered permanent but bit by bit I manage to take them off. Ones that changed colors by the season I'm in. My body is covered with tattoos as well as scars. I managed to let go of the ones that wanted to take off, and ones that infected my being. Healing wasn't a pleasant place. I tell myself enough, but I couldnt help myself. ''Maybe this time, this one won't have to go.'' But I seal my scars with another one, and another, and another, and another, until my skin screamed, until my skin felt nothing.
I got bruises for not feeling
I am supposed to be happy. There are many reasons to be. But I guess I can never be satisfied and id still want more, even though I do not entirely know what I want. My heart feels so empty, that I hear the sound of my own heartbeat in the hollowness of its chambers. I grasp for air everytime because I feel my throat closing in. I'd get stomachaches and would want to ***** out everything that I am. Because I hate everything that I am, was, and became. Serenity is played in shows, movies and music, in people at the streets, walking alone but not feeling lonely, in colors, in everything that I can only watch but never touch and never become.
Imagine me having a heartbreak every single day I see you.
You walked past me looking at my eyes but never in too deep. My feelings are buried deep down, where I can't even dig. You are the love I never intend to have and the love I have always wanted. You took me to a whole new reality but left me there. I was screaming your name everytime my heart and body start to shake. You caused me all this pain but you were always innocent. I mistook your glances for longing, I was the one longing.
We take words and make it as romantic as it sounds
We put love in every bit of context or in some cases we force out love to take part of our whole being. That's how we live, survive and die. We write songs about the sky or the moon or the sun and make it seem like they are infatuated with the clouds. We make the wind sound like the humming of a broken hearted lover waiting to be salvaged by the knight. There was always a knight, who comes and saves us. Take us out of the black and white world we created for ourselves. We make this up for our loses. For our victories. For the ones that broke us. For the ones that mold us back. For ourselves.
I'll just leave this here. Thanks
4/12/18
