It is a routine I have
Begun to dread
When the night touches
The core of our souls
And blackens them
I am faced with another day of
I shouldn't haves and why does it always
Come to this? and
I'm nervous to see you nows because you might think my lack of words and lack of actions mean I'm not giving my all, when I am always giving my all, and when really I am just so shaken and tired of feeling like this over something that has hurt me many times before and I am scraping for you to understand, scraping to stash away this horrible confusion you make me feel and clawing and ripping for the little bit of permanence from you that I more often than not will get and feel like I am again on top of the world, and believe you when you say things that make me feel like I am doing things right without having to face the sudden punch in my emotional gut when you suddenly say there are things you can't find in the canvas of colours I made for you.
It is the sick slow routine
Of watching my hopes soar
Until they touch the sky
Finding their way to pick at my flaws
Like itching scabs that
Infect and blind
They blind everything
They blind
Everything I hold out
Within your reach
Just like how
Positive plus negative
Will always be negative.
No comments:
Post a Comment