And To Think I Thought I Lost It....
I second guess my passion for you. Not enough, I guess, in my heart to have that intuition. love is one of those connections; the kind that moves us up out of our reality, if need be, and into something that isn't quite so perfect.
And you? You weren't so perfect this morning. But I slept through your hysterical sufferings as if the world was finally at peace and children around the world slipped into dreams with a smile on their face on a daily basis. That's how good I slept. And when they told you the risk you could have encountered, I was probably selfishly dreaming about the potential plans I had in store for us. But you? You were staring back into authority's eyes with pleading emotions and trembling limbs, while I woke up wondering about the time I'd be hearing from you. With an oblivious smile.
We think the world's tragedies that visit everyone we see on the news, won't come near our existence. We take for granted the privelage of being a part of someone's life, and use the phrase "graced with his presence" in too sarcastic of a manner. We honestly are graced with individuals and too often don't acknowledge it.
And there's also you. I've got the clairvoyance in regards to your life and it's truly a curse. I'm on the outside of myself looking on at the brainwashed victim you've made out of me. I'm deleriously giggling over the sight of myself twisting my hair into tight, strained twirls around my purple fingers losing blood. Apparently, I believe that I go to sleep every night to a grave I dug myself. And your sloppy, hand painted pictures of a life I'll never have with you are set strategically above me; before I close my eyes I'll see what I'm supposed to want. But even though I've always hated the person you are, I'm still crying every night thinking I'll never get back what you gave to me, because you now give it to her.
And I believe this is how I am supposed to feel when I see what goes on miles between us. When I watch you stroke her forehead and turn your voice to that dull whisper and wish her goodnight. Even though I brushed your hand away from my body and tuned you out after I got what I wanted. You told me nobody would do me like you did. And I believe you.
I second guess my passion for you. Not enough, I guess, in my heart to have that intuition. love is one of those connections; the kind that moves us up out of our reality, if need be, and into something that isn't quite so perfect.
And you? You weren't so perfect this morning. But I slept through your hysterical sufferings as if the world was finally at peace and children around the world slipped into dreams with a smile on their face on a daily basis. That's how good I slept. And when they told you the risk you could have encountered, I was probably selfishly dreaming about the potential plans I had in store for us. But you? You were staring back into authority's eyes with pleading emotions and trembling limbs, while I woke up wondering about the time I'd be hearing from you. With an oblivious smile.
We think the world's tragedies that visit everyone we see on the news, won't come near our existence. We take for granted the privelage of being a part of someone's life, and use the phrase "graced with his presence" in too sarcastic of a manner. We honestly are graced with individuals and too often don't acknowledge it.
And there's also you. I've got the clairvoyance in regards to your life and it's truly a curse. I'm on the outside of myself looking on at the brainwashed victim you've made out of me. I'm deleriously giggling over the sight of myself twisting my hair into tight, strained twirls around my purple fingers losing blood. Apparently, I believe that I go to sleep every night to a grave I dug myself. And your sloppy, hand painted pictures of a life I'll never have with you are set strategically above me; before I close my eyes I'll see what I'm supposed to want. But even though I've always hated the person you are, I'm still crying every night thinking I'll never get back what you gave to me, because you now give it to her.
And I believe this is how I am supposed to feel when I see what goes on miles between us. When I watch you stroke her forehead and turn your voice to that dull whisper and wish her goodnight. Even though I brushed your hand away from my body and tuned you out after I got what I wanted. You told me nobody would do me like you did. And I believe you.
posted by Sarah @ 9:15 PM
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