the argument.

secrets.

i am so fucking sick
of the secrets.


i wake with them,
and i sleep with them,
and they follow me,
and i'm fine.

nevermind
those blurring lines.


i know more than i need,
i know enough.

and i am so fucking tired
of people telling me
what i know,
what i don't know,
what i need to know,
what i don't.

what i am,
who i am,
who they want me to be
and why,
when i should be happy,
how and where i should stand,
what i should stand for,
if i should speak slower
or deeper
or at all.


i'm only making friends
with the gray area
between the lies.
i'm only making friends
with the moments
that i'm alone.

open my eyes.
breathe deeply into me
and breathe deeply out of me.
cross my heart.
i'm just counting stars,
looking for my place in the world.
looking for
what,
who,
why,
when,
how,
where,
and if
i want to be.

nevermind
those blurring lines.



i'm ready to talk, but
we are not the same.

the relapse.

it's been a while,

and that's all i'll say.

and hello from over here.

i've been spending my days

facing the other way

but i can still feel you there.

i can feel you everywhere,

but never where i expect you to be.

and never what i expect you to be.

and never how i expect you to be.

do you remember the moment

you took hold of the moon?

i've locked away so many memories

and sometimes i get lost.

sometimes i lose myself.

all the time i'm looking for you.

sometimes you're there,

most of the time you're not.

it's like this.

if you would let go,

i could turn myself around.

i could clip your wings,

and follow you home.

i could fall madly out of love

with these ideas and

with this cycle.

i could let these memories

rest easy and

rest in pieces.

exactly where we left them.

it wasn't for you to have,

and it wasn't mine to comprehend.

it's not even that

i don't like the view.

it's that the view

doesn't like me.

it's not even that

i don't love you.

it's that you

don't love me.

i guess this is growing up,

and here comes the eclipse.

we are not the same.