I used to look in the mirror and fall in love with myself more each day. One day that stopped and I didn’t realize it until I started to love myself again.
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I like to understand sadness because sometimes I believe it’s the only thing I can comprehend.
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In theory, it never worked. Yet I saw us like an unfinished book. Chapters build, metaphors create, words enhance, and in the end it still made no sense.
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i lie beside your skin at night
the room feels like little white lies
to taste your mind, i used to feel you sometimes
in the air at night, in my eyes at edge right
we echo in thought, a millimeter apart
the shadows speak to
you know i used to love you too
we chamber in regard, in fits and gongs
striking at once while the wind lifts
summer of 14 when your eyes used to change between hues of green
like mountains shade from blue in the distance
a metaphor for sadness i used to blend with
i change in thought in dark
longing between ideas of us
broken beliefs i once said about this
in time it changes, with emotions they make us
switch from light to black
voids i used to frolic in
have you ever felt a sadness further than death?
it feels as if there’s no depth past the edge
i dance in tune, in past tense to make sense of you
words make men, sentences form with them
people believe we leave in the end
years wander and i still remember every word you said
emotions it formed in location it was stressed
the words i spoke, how i spoke your name in the end
you speak a dark tune, playing pretend
when someone says, i love you -
Sometimes I still think of you. It’s usually when the night’s chilly and nostalgia sets in. We remember moments to create bittersweet realities of past adventures which weren’t so. It wasn’t nice, it wasn’t fun, it was anxiety ridden and my mind created false memories to help sole the situation. It doesn’t help, it hurts, and that’s the reality you must remember when your mind gets the best of you.
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Sometimes you simply don’t flow within the same constellation.
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I received everything I wanted when I hadn’t wanted anything. Why? Because I didn’t need anything. I was content in my space. Relying on myself. Reveling in me. Not curious of who I wanted to be.
Being content is almost scary. It feels robotic at times. It’s standing in front of a mirror and being okay with what you see. That’s scary to some people. That used to be scary to me.
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to feel at ease i bend you between
sheets of meadows, fires we reap
i dance in thought in memory
still feel you breathe
in oasis i converse with myself at night
to touch and feel you right
where i seemed to leave you
a darkened corner, in horrible moments
taste to touch, to break to be
slumber in thought, how great would it be to be thirteen
we echo in a sour hum as i felt you on a different frequency
we seemed to be all but nothing
the feeling of absolutely
i take to your creed
wondering if you had feelings
i taste the emotion, things were spoken without words
the birds turned their cards, the guards felt too hard
your walls tremble with gratitude
ideas begin assemble
you were symbolism, the devil
my temple and a vessel of stressful -
i dance in tune to feel a sullen blue
your voice feels close, the void of you
it’s as if we’re in thirteen
dancing to songs i sung
hearing you call from a corridor i spun
i dance towards you, yet you dance in reverse
we’re spinning without action and all of this is useless
i stand at edge in this to feel you somewhat again
i think of you in closed off spaces
wondering to wander
if that is something i could touch again
but grasp is far
your skin seems further
everything is somber
the damp of the air breathes without you
i told you things you longed to hear
because that’s what we’re used to
making people feel comfortable without comfort
we’re egos without ourselves
standing to be, waiting to become
distilling situations
creating voice where there’s no echo -
falling off pages
beheld to rivers
i talk in oasis
to feel you in edges
i speak to you at night
a numbness i seem to hold too tight
like your rope around my neck
the ceiling at grasp
i feel in a darkness
one which feels good to be in
the pavement moves
yet i stand still
my shoes ache
yet i stand here
i used to feel you in night
in shadows of my mind
in corners i turn
the blue burns like you used to
i used to feel used too
and i talk in tongues
in honest regard
in a moment of dark hoorah
the ceiling grasps
my hands i seem to attack
skin peels
i feel you all too well
with a shell on my back
hell in my hands
i break to bend
crawling to be
things make sense in the end
or it’s what people tell me
