Your fingers made ruptures on my heart, As our feet moved not too fast, And our minds thought not too slow. Your hand swings by, To say a little hi, But I pull away.
No longer, not yet.
You’re a man on fire, And I’m a girl of flames, But I burnt holes into your metaphorical image, And now you’re waiting, For your opportunity to do the same.
No longer, not yet.
Our hot air balloons float through the sky, As our eager eyes fade away, Through the vast valleys of dark and light, Though I can hear your voice calling, Through the thick fog of our hearts, “Come back.” But I ignore it.
No longer, not yet.
Your hands clasp together, Through the music of God, And I stand at a distance, Watching your every move, Hoping I’ll get another chance, To say the goodbye I meant to.
I feel incomplete. Something about being too short, So it hurts to stand. Something about being too quiet, So it hurts to speak up. Something about thinking before doing, So it hurts to do.
My day feels incomplete. Something about missing Spanish class, So it hurts to do work. Something about losing my bottom retainer, So it hurts to wear the top. Something about missing a shoelace, So it hurts to wear shoes.
My life feels incomplete. Something about a girl who loves to write, So it hurts when people ask her to speak. Something about a boy who likes to speak his mind, So it hurts to watch him listen. Something about a love unbroken, So it hurts to mend it back together.
Something feels incomplete, So it hurts trying to figure out what.
I've been finding it harder and harder, To hold my breath above water. And this is making my lungs breath easier, And my heart beat happier; But I don't want it that way. I want it to feel harder and harder to breath, To feel the thrill of the hurt, The pain of the burn. I want the struggle to push me away, Farther than I've ever been before, So I don't need to hear the cries of help, From the people who actually want to breath easy. I want to blend in with the dusk and the dawn, Hide in the shadows and stare at my silhouette, The one that doesn't exist. But I can't, For the people who are one with the Sun are helping me up, Instead of pushing me down. I just want to go down. I just want to feel compacted in my own brain, And secluded to my own soul, For the mindless bliss of life is slowly killing me. Can life do that? Kill you? If it can, It's not.
When our pinky's touched, I couldn't back out. I didn't really know what I was in for, But deep down inside, I did. It doesn't help that you're practically seven feet taller than me, And have the most masculine appearance as anyone I know. But, Our tiny appendages linked together, And when you said once we leave contact, A promise is a promise, I swear I drowned in a pool of my own sweat, And my eyes got as big as fireflies. Then, I just wanted to bring you to lunch with me, Then Spanish, The study hall, And finally home, Just so I didn't have to let go. Ever. But we did, And now a promise is a promise, And if I break it, I know a reign of terror will wreak havoc on my life, And your God like appearance will come down upon me, And never let it leave my self conscious, That I left you with hurt.
When I stopped in yesterday, It was early, And I didn't think you'd be there. But, Whole heartedly, I wanted you to be. At first you weren't, And I gave my hopes up. Five minutes later, I risked being late for class, Just to try one more time. I was lucky really, For when my squeaky boots stepped into the doorway, You were there, And a sense of relief washed over me. We talked for a while, A long while, And I had never felt happier, But then the bell rang, And I was two minutes late for homeroom. It was worth it though, Every word exchanged, Every smiled received, Each hug conceived. I would have wished for nothing more than to have been late, Just for you. And one last thing; I never stopped smiling.
When people think of death, They think morbid, Tortune, Saddness. But I try to pick out the good things. These are the best good things I can find; Hope and Reliving. After all, Some of the prettiest things are dead.
It's almost funny. When I first saw this picture, I saw us, And the life we live now. We both used to be be beautiful, Vibrant, Adorded, But now, I'm shriveled and you're perfect; Or at least that's what you say.
These leaves have the story of us, Two bright-headed blobs who shared everything, From the very beginning until the very end. We shared books, We shared socks, We even shared our toothbrushes one time, But we tried our hardest to forget about that. These leaves shared trees, They shared the same breeze, They shared the same branch, Whom they also chose to forget about. One day, You decided to go off and rant about my life to your friends, Just like this red leaf did to the shriveled one. That's why that leaf is shriveled; Why I'm shriveled. Our friends both drove us down to nothingness, And that's why we both lay here today.
"You are cautious in showing your true self to others,"
It's true. I never thought a virtual cookie could predict who I am, Or know me better than...me. All it took was three seconds, Maybe four, For it to figure that small part of me out. It has taken me 14 years. I've always been "the quiet girl", The "one with few words." People would ask me why, I would respond with the typical shoulder shrug, For that was my real answer; I didn't know. But because of an online gimmick, I pieced together that I don't tell people things, Unless I trust them enough, And enjoy being around them enough. It's sort of sad really, That a fake food item knows more about me than I do.