I whisper in you ear, 'cause it's dark, and i miss you from all the way over here. Even though i can still hear the heart song in your chest going. "Your heartattack is waiting to die," it's like your not listening. but i keep talking to see if i can work through the invisible glass layers around you that seem to manifest again in my stomach.
"I bet you can't wait to die," your heart tells me so. The skin tells me so, I'm singing in my head so that it may look like i care. But all i want is to fix your breaks. Because it feels like mine are so warn down. "The me in the little jar full of black goo that isn't liquid at all but another universe. It sucks all good and bad stuff in, like it has nothing else to do, like the cork that keeps it closed does nothing at all." still whispering.
i could be saying this to myself in thought forms, and it wouldn't make a difference. The glass does not even shake, it does not even crack, if i were to shoot it down with Kryptonian bullets, it would never even reach the other side.
So i stand up, and fluff my skirt out because it's twisted around my legs, and the skin beneath the tops of my socks below my knees sting, and i roll them to my ankles and they're bunched at the tops of my sneakers. i look at the space beside you, where i have been sitting, and the couch...it's there, and you're there. probably thinking of the things that actually make you happy anymore.
I am sure I don't fit there. But that's alright. It's hard to let people sit in that little room in your heart where you can just keep them: They could die or hurt you.
Standing, you see me now. I don't even smile. Because somewhere I'm angry.
I don't kiss you, because I don't want to.
You don't say goodbye, and again, though somewhere i know... somewhere deep, you hurt so bad. Here with this glass though, you only look fine, and I think... And I say, this time, "I hope you hurt as much as I don't." Just so somebdy can hurt, so I could know somebody who could hurt as much as i can.
But you don't want to feel it. And i hope you do some day. Because it's the only way you'll ever live.
Created: Jan 16, 2011SchismCynicLaaady Document Media