this is me feeling pathetic. wasted.
the trees and the sky both agree,
i'm much to low, down here on the ground,
to be reaching for them. but still i do.
and i hate how your promises are always breaking
at the wrong times, and how you're always
right when it comes to me. you always know just
what you should say, and it always hurts me somehow,
anyway.
and my heart is slamming up
against my ribs, wishing
to come out for once, and
bounce around on paved dreams,
those things i'm always singing about.
and we'll be like we were, but not so perfect,
and i will gently smile and sigh for
tomorrow.
the paint has splattered off the page because
we were reckless, two hearts running
right to the edge before turning,
almost falling back but not quite,
we skidded to a halt and left the stage
on opposite sides, so maybe those sides do somewhere meet,
and all this will come full-circle
in time.
and the stars keep on shining, as if to
say that life has no meaning, but keep
walking and you will find they really
burned out years ago when you were caught
up in some pretty romance and forgot
to notice how beautiful they could
be, if only you had watched them
all go out.
this is me feeling confused. and bitter because
someone made me cry inside.
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