Darkness disrupted by a whisper. Theres a splinter in my hand and I'm afraid to complain. I know you all think I have it so great but it's digging deeper and infection catches everyone. This has all been a metaphor to catch you up on the last six months or so.
Been waking up with last nights tears in my eyes instead of a view of yours in them. I write apologies on napkins... then crumble them up with all of my best expectations. Their head has been the pillow that I've rested my bad days on.
The rest of my life will forever be at your fingertips. A mile away from where I see you, but still can't see what you saw in me. Life went black when the lights went out.
My eyes continue to fall down for the count, as I swear to everyone else it's only a disease. I will forever be the narcoleptic to your knock out.
I've been screaming "I broke bones for you" in my dreams to just keep breathing. All of my best moves were made over breakfast anyway.
Condemned to forever be the mistake, while you are the correction. My twin is the backspace key... yet I'm in the hospital sick of trying.
The scars on my September wrists look more like smiles now. Settled for second best in the publics heart just so I could be there at all. Hopefully stuck in your ribcage on the way out of an exhale.
If we're still being honest with each other, I can't take it all in sometimes... the breath and the confusion. There are times when my clean conscience is only a blank stare with palms towards the sky.
My heartbeat is tidal. I just want to make you laugh again.
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We will forever be a community of writers asking you to fall in (love) or be taken (hostage.) We only want to make you smile, and encourage you to pick up the pen, or start using those fingers on your keyboard!
