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46. Family
I’m not sure if I want to talk about family. I already do it enough already.
47. Creation
You’re not the one I fell hardest for, but that’s okay because instead of being bruised and broken at your feet from the fall, I’m on my feet by your side holding you tight. You’re not the first person I thought I loved, but that’s okay because you’re the one I know I do truly. I know they were just my stepping stones to you. You weren’t any of those, but you’re all of these. You’re the one in my mind al the time, and it took me only now to realize that you’re the one that has always been on my mind. You’re the one I can plan out a future with within seconds like I always do, and no matter the ugly scenarios my brain conjures I don’t care because I can feel we could make it through tem. You’re the one I wouldn’t mind giving up my dreams for because with you I know I’m happy. You’re the one I don’t feel weird around, the one I don’t mind helping, the one I don’t mind holding, and the one I’m willing to help me get past my fears. Maybe it’s too soon to tell.
. . . but to me you’re the one.
48. Childhood
as I walk past the street sign I have to bite back the urge to cross out the words and scribble memory lane over it instead, because that’s exactly where I’m headed now. The colors of autumn are coming in fire on the branches and fluttering to the ground like sparks making way for winter. Children are still running down to the sidewalks giggling and racing on big wheels. The park they replaced the one of my childhood with is plastic, bright blue, and made of curves. Much less fun to the adventurous eye, unlike tat old one made of wood, extravagant, and made of sharp, splintered angles. There were more scrapes and bruises, but the whimpers were drowned out by the laughter. I walked down to the cul-de-sac as they call it, but we called it a court. The tread marks from burning our rubber bicycle tires against the pavement were long since faded and the sports equipment of soccer balls, footballs, baseballs, bats, mitts, roller-skates, and skateboards no longer littered the lawns. The house was painted different shades of gray rather than that homey white and brown or that funny peach color we questioned dad about. The tree we would climb in that stood framed in our backyard had the bottom branches hacked off, no longer able to pull yourself into the branches.
I missed my childhood, but it was gone in every physical sense, only left in my memories.
49. Stripes
I’m painting stripes on the wallpaper because it’s all that I have left. My life has gone and my mind has left and this fucking wallpaper is just a reminder of all that loathing and self-hatred I hold for myself. The sadistic smiles of baby teddy bears on the walls and the flowers full of masochism. Then there’s that out of place dinosaur light switch I just hate! So I’m painting black stripes over black stripes and trying not to cry at night because it hurts too much, like each tear that falls is a piece of my own heart dripping out of my body. And it stings. So I’m painting these black vertical stripes. I’m hating this room, I’m making it my own personal prison.
50. Breaking the Rules
We’re breaking all the rules now, but I don’t really mind because I’ll have you to look at this time. We’ll be able to kiss goodnight in the morning and say our hello’s when we should really be saying goodbye. I’ll be like the moon during the day while you’ll be the sun at night. We’ll hum these lullabies to ourselves as we lie in fields of dying wheat and swim naked in the lake, scaring the fist. You’ll be the crayon and I’ll be the permanent marker. While you’re scribbling your rebellion on the walls, I’m hopelessly drawing artwork on your heart hoping you’ll think it beautiful, but permanent markers. . .well they weren’t always permanent were they? I’m fading from your heart now and you’re still breaking the rules. The crayons been washed off the walls but you’re okay with coloring it all back in, but I’m moving on. I was never one for repetition, I could never repaint my pictures the exact same way like you can. I’ll stand way from you now and replace the moon in the night sky and look at you’re sunny nights for what they really are, and orange moon in a black night. Just a mishap of nature.
I’m not sure if I want to talk about family. I already do it enough already.
47. Creation
You’re not the one I fell hardest for, but that’s okay because instead of being bruised and broken at your feet from the fall, I’m on my feet by your side holding you tight. You’re not the first person I thought I loved, but that’s okay because you’re the one I know I do truly. I know they were just my stepping stones to you. You weren’t any of those, but you’re all of these. You’re the one in my mind al the time, and it took me only now to realize that you’re the one that has always been on my mind. You’re the one I can plan out a future with within seconds like I always do, and no matter the ugly scenarios my brain conjures I don’t care because I can feel we could make it through tem. You’re the one I wouldn’t mind giving up my dreams for because with you I know I’m happy. You’re the one I don’t feel weird around, the one I don’t mind helping, the one I don’t mind holding, and the one I’m willing to help me get past my fears. Maybe it’s too soon to tell.
. . . but to me you’re the one.
48. Childhood
as I walk past the street sign I have to bite back the urge to cross out the words and scribble memory lane over it instead, because that’s exactly where I’m headed now. The colors of autumn are coming in fire on the branches and fluttering to the ground like sparks making way for winter. Children are still running down to the sidewalks giggling and racing on big wheels. The park they replaced the one of my childhood with is plastic, bright blue, and made of curves. Much less fun to the adventurous eye, unlike tat old one made of wood, extravagant, and made of sharp, splintered angles. There were more scrapes and bruises, but the whimpers were drowned out by the laughter. I walked down to the cul-de-sac as they call it, but we called it a court. The tread marks from burning our rubber bicycle tires against the pavement were long since faded and the sports equipment of soccer balls, footballs, baseballs, bats, mitts, roller-skates, and skateboards no longer littered the lawns. The house was painted different shades of gray rather than that homey white and brown or that funny peach color we questioned dad about. The tree we would climb in that stood framed in our backyard had the bottom branches hacked off, no longer able to pull yourself into the branches.
I missed my childhood, but it was gone in every physical sense, only left in my memories.
49. Stripes
I’m painting stripes on the wallpaper because it’s all that I have left. My life has gone and my mind has left and this fucking wallpaper is just a reminder of all that loathing and self-hatred I hold for myself. The sadistic smiles of baby teddy bears on the walls and the flowers full of masochism. Then there’s that out of place dinosaur light switch I just hate! So I’m painting black stripes over black stripes and trying not to cry at night because it hurts too much, like each tear that falls is a piece of my own heart dripping out of my body. And it stings. So I’m painting these black vertical stripes. I’m hating this room, I’m making it my own personal prison.
50. Breaking the Rules
We’re breaking all the rules now, but I don’t really mind because I’ll have you to look at this time. We’ll be able to kiss goodnight in the morning and say our hello’s when we should really be saying goodbye. I’ll be like the moon during the day while you’ll be the sun at night. We’ll hum these lullabies to ourselves as we lie in fields of dying wheat and swim naked in the lake, scaring the fist. You’ll be the crayon and I’ll be the permanent marker. While you’re scribbling your rebellion on the walls, I’m hopelessly drawing artwork on your heart hoping you’ll think it beautiful, but permanent markers. . .well they weren’t always permanent were they? I’m fading from your heart now and you’re still breaking the rules. The crayons been washed off the walls but you’re okay with coloring it all back in, but I’m moving on. I was never one for repetition, I could never repaint my pictures the exact same way like you can. I’ll stand way from you now and replace the moon in the night sky and look at you’re sunny nights for what they really are, and orange moon in a black night. Just a mishap of nature.
grah, i just spit these all out within today and yesterday.
dont forget to check out dracinfir:
dont forget to check out dracinfir:
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