Stories, I don’t tell.

where have you been;

or how have you been,

maybe that’s a better place to start?

people ask me about you.... they expect for me to talk about your failures. 

instead i tell them of your success, 

that’s a better story to tell... if i have to tell it.   

cause hate never tore us apart, 

we both had too much love to give.... even if it didn’t keep us together.  

we both had too much life to live.... we just couldn’t share it together.  

my hands are tainted, i realize as i flip through the pages. i’d never point a finger at you. 

C&D

write it down and erase it.  

copy, don’t paste it.  

hard to write down your emotions  

when you don’t know your emotions.  

when you’re so numb to feeling.  

write it down and don’t erase it.  

but it’s hard to publish these thoughts. 

 but this is where the art comes from. 

this is where i come from.  

some where between certainty and uncertainty.  

some where between lost and found.   

some where within the destruction .... that’s where i find myself. that’s where i create myself.   

 

dishonest honesty.

would you believe me if i told you that it’s been a while since i listened to the voices in my head.  

it’s been a while since i’ve thought out loud and acknowledged them.   

 

i know what that means but i’m not ready to take accountability and hold myself responsible. 

being honest with you because i can’t be honest with myself.  

not yet. at least not right now.