I haven’t wrote in a while, I guess I’m stuck with a dull pencil and no sharpener. I just haven’t had anything to say, less to say, none to say . . whatever. The words I want to say aren’t created and wouldn’t make sense to those who know all the words that exist. I look in the mirror and I don’t know what I see, not that it’s not me but she’s just not me . . makes sense, believe me. Love tails along in by my side hanging on by a thin thread, preparing itself to latch on to something else and snap but I try so hard not to let it go only to be seen to try so little. What can I say, better yet do? We want more than we can get and when we get what we want something better comes along so we fight our hardest to lose our wants for better things . . or so I think.
This isn’t about me or love its about you . . you. I watch you rock in your own misery, waiting to be knocked out the swings only to land on your face because to you that’s square one. Dirt washes off with soap and water which is your love and comfort so you seek it in places their sold out but I’m still available. We talk but it leads to arguments that shouldn’t have developed from such small topics but our minds and souls conflict and tumble over words that should have been comforting. Best part about this love is we both refuse to leave . . I swear I wont. Still you doubt and force me to push more love into you but it only comes out as “attitude” which causes you to question if this even is love.
Blah, I say.
So much tension lies between us at night and wakes us up with grudges that find no joy or hope for what may seem as better. I just want it all to be better. Sighs. Why is better so hard and nothing ever easy? Why does love feel like a mountain with rocks falling above us as our feet lose footing. Random thoughts like your reaction to my words or questions to my thoughts eat inside the back of my head. I refuse to give up a year longs work but I bet your sitting smirking wondering when I’m going to prove that. . . good question.