I wish my life was a piece of art
Because art is hung
on walls- with wire
around its neck- no, Frame.
Or then again, No, a poem
I wish my life was a poem
Because poems hide in drawers
And are sometimes ripped or burned
After reading-
Or kept forever, with tear-frayed pages.
Oh and I wish I could wrap my heart in seaweed
and soak it in sea- because I feel endless burning
And no matter how many times I bandage yours-
Your endlessly bleeding...Why am I so passionate?!
It tears you apart and re-opens so many old wounds...
And why are we both so stubborn?
It splits open trust we've built up for so long!
Come on, SCREAM AT ME! Make it better than mothers!
Come on, MAKE ME CRY! Make it the best I ever had!
COME ON! RIP ME APART! TO RESTART YOUR HEART!
I don't care what you do...I just can't bear your apathy...
And you call me an ignorant fool, but its why you love me!
Oh, and you taught me what broken really was!
And you taught me compassion, and empathy,
everything but how to keep my tongue-tied, like yours!
But one day you'll regret not telling me all you wanted to say-
Like the whisper I heard through broken sobs
"I think your too perfect for me to have"
Perfect? What is this, Perfection? None of mine,
If I was perfect I could stop the sound of your tears,
I could stop your melancholy, your doubt, your pain,
But with my every mistake, you give up again...
I will show you I am strong!
I will not let you give up for good
after this, and so many times before...
But the more your spirit dies, the more I cry!
And even if this is all a facade in your eyes,
At least its one more day I have you to love, Alive!
And I think if you could see my tears,
you wouldn't shoot me down so often...
And as this heart quivers...eyes trembling...
I could cry for years and years...
No. Wait. I already have.
And still, your here- Please! Don't go!
Whenever I imagine you leaving,
deceasing all knowledge, logic and imagination inside of you,
My breath begins breaking, like the sound of crying,
But how do I cope, when this whole time you've been lying?
But no, I have to believe
the words we're for me.
I have to believe,
The songs heard, we're for me.
Because I've day-dreamed endlessly
on elevators and streets of this city
thinking of only you on late night buses
A thousand miles from you, because you say
"I know what's best for us."
