Memories are strange things; one ticket for the private screening of my life. That is, what i can remember of it. The funny thing is i will remember the best and the worst but the mundane things, the things that make up the bits in between, i won’t. I won’t remember having spaghetti on the 23rd of august, or the face of that boy i once kissed; their lips along with their name become a blur, just as that night has. It’s strange how a faded memory in my eyes is the most remembered night from another’s. It’s strange how i can think back to some nights, almost as if i am there once more. It’s strange how now, today, may not even become a memory to be forgotten; too mundane to maintain in the jumble of memories that remain inside this head of mine. It is strange.
“Do people take advantage of you?”
I imagine you thinking of that night of us when those words spill from your lips, i imagine it because i know you regret what we did and, so do i. I imagine it because it means that you worry that others do the same as you once did. I imagine it because it acts an apology, not that one is needed but i like to imagine you still care about me. It’s just nice to know that you’re not a complete ass. In hindsight you did take advantage of me; i know that now. And i know that i thought i was head over heals for you, and if we just fucked on your bedroom floor maybe i’d become a permanent resident; maybe even upgrade to the bed. But i also know how bad you feel for taking the one thing i wanted to keep before passing it over as if some token into my life. i can’t help but wonder how differently things could’ve played out. but know, i don’t want you, i used to and i think that still taints my lips.
My eyes are blinded by the future
But i’m always two steps behind
So eyes will stay glazed until i’m six feet deep;
When i have soil for eyes
And worms for a brain.
I need fog lights;
To shine onto the road ahead
But it’s not time for a spring clean
When it’s winter and the mist is still thick.
So for now,
I live in this dream
Until the thought of winter can ride by
And it becomes spring once more,
Or until soil and worms join my side
Painting a picture of spring before my eyes.
I see love in fingertips touching,
Making sure to remember every inch of your body.
I see it in eyes meeting after what seems like hours of laughter
While snow falls outside and the fire roars,
I see it in creating priorities,
Lifting above everything you thought imaginable.
Fingertips that were once discovering new land
Have seen all there is to see,
They long to explore fresh grass
Rather than to sit in this bland desert filled with cold hearts.
Jokes that once ended in hours of laughter
Now fail to even crack a smile
And eyes stay glued to the floor.
And if they do meet they echo the roaring fire;
Rather than the snow as before.
And priorities have become a less frequent occurrence,
As you have become bland and ordinary.
Hold onto hands,
Lock your eyes,
Treasure time spent together.
Love is temporary;
And memories will last forever
But when your heart is fading into a pale beige
And your attempts to hold on are failing;
Know when to let go.
But don’t get pushed away;
Walk away with purpose,
With pride and love for what once was,
And no regrets of the past.
Keep eyes up
Mouth spread wide
And look onwards to see what the future hides.
I hope it’s a purple or a bright green;
Any shade far enough from this dullness and bland
So I can hide behind this smokescreen for a little while longer
Before i end up on this same shore of sand and sea painted beige.
We left our hearts at the door
Leaving only the beat to enter
Not wanting anymore than what’s led out for us in the sheets
As we grasp onto this night of heat
While the sickly sweet taste of naivety tarrs our lungs
Coating the vile taste of reality
Hearts held apart at arms length
But mouths are discovering new lands
And they’re liking the taste of the freshly cut grass.
I want to tell you to live for the sky when it’s painted salmon and lilac.
I want to tell you to live for the smell of toast and freshly ground coffee in the morning.
I want to tell you to live for waking up with the sun in your eyes and forgetting where you are.
And i want to believe it,
I really want to,
But i can’t convince you when i’m trying to myself.
I question why we need a reason at all;
Why can’t we just live to be?
But even i don’t believe that
And i don’t think you do either,
As much as i’d love to,
As much as i’d love to be content as who i am,
And who this world is,
As humans we should want to survive,
Right? Isn’t that how it works?
So why is it that me and you, and so many others want so badly the opposite?
Okay, maybe not so much the opposite but a reason;
A reasonable reason,
And if the only viable suggestion that we can think of is living for another;
I don’t want my only justification of being alive to be dependent on love and being loved.
Because everything is god damn temporary,
And no one’s going to be there forever.
So what happens when they leave?
Time to sink into the black abyss of my mind,
I’m being dragged down by the weight of the anchor strapped to my feet,
What once started as the needle has become the hay stack,
Towering over everything i do,
Focussing on what i lack,
Pulling me down until i can’t remember what came before;
Itching me to i claw the inside of my brain.
I float on the surface of the ice cold cool blue,
My ears are muffled,
As if the water has become the captain to my ship,
Controlling what i can hear
And if i sink deeper; what i can feel.
But i relax because i know that i won’t float or sink forever,
I might end up on the shore disguised as the tide
And walk along the sand to find a jungle by my side so lively that even the birds cower.
One that is so alive that it towers over me and i try to do the same,
One that muffles my mind with a single breath.
A sea that was once blue is now just replaced by one of green.
But i will relax because i know i won’t be walking in this foreseen jungle until the end of time;
I worry that if the water that resides inside my ears,
That muffles the world so well,
Will refuse to set sail when the gales arrive
Or when i land in that dock i’ve been dreaming of since i’ve floated in both blue and green,
The same dock that i know i will feel safe in it’s embrace,
Holding me close,
Loving and looking after my helm for the duration of my stay.
Now i will start to worry;
I will worry because for the first time since i set sail i won’t be invariably looking out of my crow’s nest,
I will worry because i will be blind to the storms that so clearly brew above me,
But most of all i will worry because i will be happy with my stay in this dreamy dock of mine.
The point is,
Everything is temporary and it’s fucking drowning me.