I need to refill the lead in my pencil. Refill the lead in my life.
I need to refill those things called emotions that are supposed to go in my heart.
Can I have an instruction booklet, please? Thanks.
I always wanted to be somebody’s last chance. I was hoping to be yours, but instead I burned the letters because everything I touch turns to ash, anyway.
Was our love worn in or worn out boots?
Your opinion was switching so fast towards the end that you about gave me whiplash.
No, not boots. I think you compared our love to a coat, one that you grew out of a few years back. The kind that’s just a bit too short, a little too tight in the shoulders.
That sure made me feel good.
But I gave you false compliments and white lies! Isn’t that what you do when you care about someone? Sure, honey, that puke green goes really well with your eyes.
I was there for you, I really was.
And in my mind I was even giving you real compliments, the ones that always brought that uncomfortable expression to your face.
You never liked the truth, that’s a fact.
And now my emotions feel like shattered glass and a roll of tape that doesn’t work.
“When will we own ourselves completely?”
That was what you asked me. I didn’t understand- why would I have to own myself when I had you to take care of me?
Ah, now I see.
I keep forgetting that you left.
I feel like I’m getting swallowed up in the tides while I wait for you to come back.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
I’m starting to feel uncomfortable in my own skin- like I should start looking for the fire escape because all I can see is the smoke I’m choking on and the absence of myself.
I should start coloring outside the lines and
wearing sunglasses that nobody thinks are my style.
I should start disregarding social cues and
stop slowing down at yellow lights.
I should stop giving up because, seriously, what a waste of time.
So pack up that awful coat and
those philosophies and
my feelings and
walk away.
Oh.
I keep forgetting that you left.
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