We break and
We fold and
Everything we ever were
For the chance to
Be believed in, to
Be found, to
And it hurts
But we smile and
We laugh and
Because the truth hurts and
Fake it ‘til you make it,
But all I want to know is:
Will I ever make it?
Tag Archives: change
We break and
Sleet floods down and in that winter flurry she doesn’t miss the sun.
The California hills held nothing for her, only make-up and the corrupt righteousness of fake faces and sick, empty smiles.
In this place with the wind beating on the roof and the lights threatening to give out, she knows she would take this over anything she knows as familiar. Snowflakes pour from the skies and with each one she hopes her sense of familiar will change.
It may not be as perfect as her crossed fingers hoped for, but feeling good isn’t a sin and the smiles are at least real.
She’ll pile on blankets and curl up real right, use the real fireplace that burns with wood, and she feel more at home here than in those California hills.
Suddenly – it’s always suddenly – something shifted. I was looking at you, but I wasn’t at the same time. It’s like I could see your face, but not who you were. Not anymore.
My mouth closed, no more words being screamed. My eyes dried, no more tears to gush out. My heart paused, almost surprised at the sudden tiredness of it all. The exhaustion set in.
I think you could feel the air around us change. I could see the twitch in your brow, I could see – something – change in your eyes. Then you looked almost worried. Is that it? The way your mouth turned, and your chin, and your eyes…
I could see your mouth move. Come back.
But I didn’t say anything back. Just silence.
Don’t leave me.
But I did.
Because I didn’t know you anymore, and I didn’t know me.
I didn’t even say good-bye.
You looked at me and it’s like my skin felt too big
Your words echoed in my ears and it sounded like bombs going off
My bones shifted and shrunk, until I was two inches tall
Before I could fit into a crack, you spat your words like daggers
And one by one they pierced my skin, into my blood, into my organs
Nothing was left intact
She uses the sands of time to build sand castles
With the past she builds the foundation
With the future she builds the walls
Every time the future shifts and changes,
She adds a little concrete
And it’s a little harder to get any change out of her
So when you tell her it’s okay to break those walls
To change a little bit for you,
Know she’s already made changes she never chose
And you’ll have to bring a few hammers with you
And don’t forget the elbow grease –
It won’t be easy
I remember telling you I missed you
While you laid next to me
And I remember you telling me you were right there
But all I did was smile and shake my head
And then I told you I missed you
So you held me in your arms.
When I told you I missed you
I was telling that to your back
When you were walking away,
I was telling that to your face
When I hadn’t seen you in days
So when our hands were tied up and so were our legs
And I was telling you I missed you
I wasn’t telling you then that I missed you
I was telling the you that walked away
I was telling the warmth that left
And the arms that used to hold and comfort me so
Because now when you’re so far away
And I can only spy you from over here
I go back to those times and wish you could hear me then
She told me she loved me
Then she rearranged all of my pieces
To fit her sharp edges
And I thought we would fit together so well
But then I started to bend back,
Her sharp edges impaled my softness
While I bled all over the floor
I told her I loved her
But she told me she could never love
What I had become