my heart beat still skips like stones. and i can almost see the breaks in the surface from where all these misconstrued feelings ripple out and dissipate. like drops of water on my window pane, bleeding together and streaming away. like dust in our airways, inhaled, exhaled and slowing settling until my whole world is covered with a thick layer of grime and i'm left wondering if this is what love is supposed to feel like.
it is, right?
because otherwise, i'm shy of the mark and even shyer of finding something new to waste my time on since these lipsthey don't move as much as they should because i tend to let my heart do all the talking so that every mistake i make reverberates and quakes and these four walls i've built around me tumble down until there's nothing but debris. i'm left to clean up the mess. refortifying my bad decisions with better intentions that are still not quite as high as they used to be.
but maybe a lower wall will let the right things in.
the chances though these days are unlikely and i know soon i'll be nursing another wound. stitching up the seams of a half thought out plan that involved me being happier than i am right now if only i could make someone hear me out. but you can never make anyone do exactly what you have planned.
you can only hope.
but i try to hope less these days. since that's the only feeling that is fitting to my small doses of reality. if i had known today was going to be like this, i would have never left my bed. besides when i'm tangled up in sheets i can pretend that i'm not as alone as i feel. that my spine hasn't totally folded in on itself and packed away, because dear god, i need to stand up straight. chin up, darling. chin up because the world isn't going to give you something good unless you're willing to fight for it.
and i promise this fight is the only thing i've ever had.
i've got the scars and bruises to prove it, but if hands are meant for holding, these palms have seen too much bad to bring any comfort to the subtle arch of your fingertips but i'm still hoping you'll let me intertwine my fingers into yours anyways, because you seem like the sort of person that could save me. tomorrow, if the sea came and swallowed me, i'd like to believe that your firm grasp would be the one to rescue me, because every girl needs a hero sooner or later, and i'd like my hero to be you.
but the ending is always closer than any of us like to pretend, and i'm stuck wondering if i'll find you in time. i mean, honestly, when have you ever flipped to the last page of a story to find it ending like this. a whole world collapsing in on itself as if we could paint galaxies on our fingertips and fix this by molding a different set of circumstances that would erase this slow destruction and bring me one step closer to where i want to be. exactly where you are. wherever that is. i haven't found it yet but i will.
i swear it.