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I am too afraid to pull the trigger.
I am too afraid to let the small gust finally sway me to either side of this thin line I juggle on.
I find myself sitting in vacant corners where no light or shade reaches me. I find myself running laps around a prize I never fully wanted.
I find myself eating away at my own future. I find myself pushing people at the moment I feel my vulnerability gnawing away at my innards- in such cases I tell myself to laugh it off, to joke about it. But when I see, that they've seen what cracked through the surface, I close my books and leave.
I know they wont chase after, nobody will because, very frankly speaking, it is not their responsibility.
They are not in control of my stability and they are not accountable for my actions. So I never hold it against them when they decide to give up.
When, after months on end we talk, it feels like I conversed with a stranger.
Oddly enough, I find it comforting, so I tell myself; next time, we wont, next time, we wont.
Scissors and paper cuts, razors and knives.
I'll carve into my world. I shape it how I want to, I will exhaust every inch on my soul just to will myself to finally be able to say "I give up." with out having foreign forces held at bay to break through.
I hope for the sun in a house with no windows.
Bruises and burns, words bouncing around on four walls.
An empty room with no lights, a puddle of red wax scabbing around my feet.
I will tell you I hate the things I love the most and you will believe me, I will teach you how artful lying truly is.
Clenched fists, crescent moons on either sides, a river of salt, water and blood.
A gourd beautiful sight. You will watch in horrible amazement, the person I will show you.
Au revoir
Au revoir
Au revoir
A shallow promise to the crying mother.
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