I carry your heart with me (I carry it in
my heart) I am never without it (anywhere
I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
- EE Cummings
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
the heart on pandoras sleeve
I've spent much of the past few days writing what is essentially, my first love letter. My very own Dear John letter, of sorts.
There is so much unseen pressure that comes with writing a letter like this. What kind of paper do I use? what colour pen? My handwriting is too messy! Let alone the content. It took a while, but I got it out. It's signed, sealed and destined to be posted Monday morning. I have no idea how long it will take to get to him - it's probably better not knowing. These could be the last days that I am his friend. Even if this letter changes nothing, it will still change everything. You can't go on pretending that someone doesn't have feelings for you - it would taint everything; everything said would be over thought - it would become hard work.
I have no idea how he is going to react. I think I can trust that he will try to be noble, he may even write a considered response. I don't know. I don't know that I expect anything. From a logical perspective; to me, this letter makes sense - because it lets me release all of these feelings I have kept hidden for so long. It is an idea that scares, but also relieves me, because I know this is the absolute I can do. There will be no more 'if onlys' or 'what ifs' because I will have done all that is within my control. If I get the result I suspect - that is, 'thanks, but no thanks' at least I know for sure, and this should allow me to let go fully. There is only one real risk that terrifies me - if he finds the idea so ridiculous, so embarrassing, disgusting or cringe-worthy that he proclaims it to people I know. That. Would. Destroy. Me.
Initially I was over thinking the letter. How do I lay it out - beginning, middle, end? How do I sign it off - nothing seems appropriate. How much is too much? Eventually, I found my flow.
I told him I like him, I told him a little about why I like him so. I told him how long, and how the letter is difficult for me. I told him that I have no expectations - I let him off the hook. Essentially what my letter says is "I am here, I want you to know I like you - do what you must. I wish you well". Hmmm, maybe I should've gone with that, instead of three handwritten pages.
I figure that this is one of life's rare 'all-or-nothing' moments - I gave it everything. Sending the letter scares the absolute shit out of me - once committed to ink and sent, I cannot control it any longer. I'm releasing these thoughts and feelings into the world, to be carried on the wind to him. But now, that the deed is done, I think I may sleep peacefully, knowing I gave it all - I'm putting my heart on the line, along with every insecurity I ever had about men and love and John. It's either incredibly brave or beyond stupid. What is it about fortune favouring the brave?
SB xx
Thursday, July 28, 2011
like an incomplete lullaby
Like a turning head, like a second look
Like a burning leaf of an open book.
Like a pounding sea, like a massive climb,
When your eyes first met with mine.
Like a broken word, like a tragic smile
Like a thousand steps or a single mile.
Like a lonely chance, like a savage glow,
When you turned and said hello...
Like a fleeting thought, like a double life,
Like a gentle feel of a warming taste.
Like a passive breath, like a cooling blow,
When you stopped and held me close.
Inside I nearly froze.
Your touch is almost healing,
You left me feeling,
Tired, I could not close my eyes.
On fire, but frozen inside.
To run or to hide.
Speechless, my words would not melt.
Whispered, I wanted to shout.
Without you I felt,
Like a setting sun, like a lost goodbye.
Like an incomplete lullaby.
SB xx
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Chasing Rainbows
I've been in a pretty bad place the last couple of days. Sometimes things have been so dark, that I didn't know how I was to crawl out into the light again.
I saw John yesterday. Standing near him again, hearing his voice, seeing him - so happy; it made it all that much worse. He hugged me hello, and then he hugged me goodbye - he gives good hugs. Our cheeks touched during that final hug - and then, he was gone. And he'll probably be gone forever now. There is no need for him to return.
I about bawled my eyes out - and perhaps I would've, had it not been a necessity for me to stay 'together' - given that I was at work.
I'm rethinking writing the Dear John letter - the letter that tells him how I feel - well, a condensed version. I know that if I do it - it's at great risk - to my pride, my self esteem, to our friendship the way it stands now. I know it'll probably break it... and I guess when someone tells you they have feelings for you - it changes how you interact with them - it's only natural. And, if it all goes down the way I figure, he's not going to want a bar of me. No emails, no messages, no facebook, nothing. This would all probably be helpful to me, but it's not something I'm strong enough to enforce myself - if he did it - it would be game over. Maybe it's what I need. Maybe this overwhelming sense that I have to spill what fills the awkward silence with us, will give me the release I need. I know I carry it with me all the time - it's not healthy. How can I ever consider finding that real someone, when I have these strong feelings hidden away. They eat at me - I'm quietly breaking.
So, there have been many tears. I'm still not sure about the letter. I want to seek some advice from others. Is writing a letter silly? Will he be horrible and laugh at me? Will he tell my workmates and make a fool of me? Will it be the end? Will it really make me feel better? How is he going to feel - angry, embarrassed, bothered, indifferent? It's scary.
We've had unusually warm weather for this time of year - even the air has been heavy with anticipation. It rained a little this afternoon - a beautiful sun shower. There's nothing quite like it - the droplets on the windscreen, illuminated by the sunlight, sparkled like diamonds as they landed on the glass. As I was driving home I noticed a rainbow, shooting from the top of a house in the distance - changing directions, another rainbow... driving still - yet another. No real ending, no beginning. Beauty in it's purest form. It was a reminder to me, perhaps a sign from above - after rain, comes rainbows - after tears, comes joy. Maybe I will find the light again, sooner than I think. Wouldn't it be lovely? I felt strangely peaceful - driving beneath the pastel curves. I will get through this.
It's easy to get caught up in everything that's going on; easy to think we have it so hard. But, it's moments like this afternoon - unplanned, completely natural, that serve to remind, that life is glorious; beauty unexpected - it is truth; immersion in the moments is what really matters. Tears, laughter, pain - all have roles to play. Maybe we have to play them fully to move through them?
SB xx
I saw John yesterday. Standing near him again, hearing his voice, seeing him - so happy; it made it all that much worse. He hugged me hello, and then he hugged me goodbye - he gives good hugs. Our cheeks touched during that final hug - and then, he was gone. And he'll probably be gone forever now. There is no need for him to return.
I about bawled my eyes out - and perhaps I would've, had it not been a necessity for me to stay 'together' - given that I was at work.
I'm rethinking writing the Dear John letter - the letter that tells him how I feel - well, a condensed version. I know that if I do it - it's at great risk - to my pride, my self esteem, to our friendship the way it stands now. I know it'll probably break it... and I guess when someone tells you they have feelings for you - it changes how you interact with them - it's only natural. And, if it all goes down the way I figure, he's not going to want a bar of me. No emails, no messages, no facebook, nothing. This would all probably be helpful to me, but it's not something I'm strong enough to enforce myself - if he did it - it would be game over. Maybe it's what I need. Maybe this overwhelming sense that I have to spill what fills the awkward silence with us, will give me the release I need. I know I carry it with me all the time - it's not healthy. How can I ever consider finding that real someone, when I have these strong feelings hidden away. They eat at me - I'm quietly breaking.
So, there have been many tears. I'm still not sure about the letter. I want to seek some advice from others. Is writing a letter silly? Will he be horrible and laugh at me? Will he tell my workmates and make a fool of me? Will it be the end? Will it really make me feel better? How is he going to feel - angry, embarrassed, bothered, indifferent? It's scary.
We've had unusually warm weather for this time of year - even the air has been heavy with anticipation. It rained a little this afternoon - a beautiful sun shower. There's nothing quite like it - the droplets on the windscreen, illuminated by the sunlight, sparkled like diamonds as they landed on the glass. As I was driving home I noticed a rainbow, shooting from the top of a house in the distance - changing directions, another rainbow... driving still - yet another. No real ending, no beginning. Beauty in it's purest form. It was a reminder to me, perhaps a sign from above - after rain, comes rainbows - after tears, comes joy. Maybe I will find the light again, sooner than I think. Wouldn't it be lovely? I felt strangely peaceful - driving beneath the pastel curves. I will get through this.
It's easy to get caught up in everything that's going on; easy to think we have it so hard. But, it's moments like this afternoon - unplanned, completely natural, that serve to remind, that life is glorious; beauty unexpected - it is truth; immersion in the moments is what really matters. Tears, laughter, pain - all have roles to play. Maybe we have to play them fully to move through them?
SB xx
Monday, July 25, 2011
come sail your ships around me
From the intriguing Nick Cave...
The Ship Song
Come sail your ships around me
And burn your bridges down.
We make a little history baby
Every time you come around.
Come loose your dogs upon me
And let your hair hang down.
You are a little mystery to me
Every time you come around.
We talk about it all night long
We define our moral ground.
But when I crawl into your arms
Everything comes tumbling down.
Come sail your ships around me
And burn your bridges down.
We make a little history baby
Every time you come around.
Your face has fallen sad now
For you know the time is nigh
When I must remove your wings
And you, you must try to fly.
Come sail your ships around me
And burn your bridges down.
We make a little history baby
Every time you come around.
Come loose your dogs upon me
And let your hair hang down
You are a little mystery to me
Every time you come around.
...please step quietly, everyone can hear you... sometimes it can feel like you are stomping your feet and no one hears you at all.
SB xx
The Ship Song
Come sail your ships around me
And burn your bridges down.
We make a little history baby
Every time you come around.
Come loose your dogs upon me
And let your hair hang down.
You are a little mystery to me
Every time you come around.
We talk about it all night long
We define our moral ground.
But when I crawl into your arms
Everything comes tumbling down.
Come sail your ships around me
And burn your bridges down.
We make a little history baby
Every time you come around.
Your face has fallen sad now
For you know the time is nigh
When I must remove your wings
And you, you must try to fly.
Come sail your ships around me
And burn your bridges down.
We make a little history baby
Every time you come around.
Come loose your dogs upon me
And let your hair hang down
You are a little mystery to me
Every time you come around.
...please step quietly, everyone can hear you... sometimes it can feel like you are stomping your feet and no one hears you at all.
SB xx
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
The hardest part
I feel a strong sense of deja-vu as I write this; but I know the reasons behind the feelings are less than mystical and more because I write about it over, and over again. John is a common thread I weave in the things I write, I think because my feelings are ambiguous and sit in an awkward place - never moving, never ending - just stuck. So I'm stuck, and sometimes I become unstuck.
It is an uncomfortable admission, for me to say that a few nights ago I bawled my eyes out, weeping well beyond the stroke of midnight - all because I just didn't know how to sit with these feelings anymore. I still don't.
It is an inconvenient truth, but a truth nonetheless, that he is many, many hundreds of kilometers away - with no reason to return, no reason at all to think he left somebody behind.
I cried because I knew he was coming here this weekend - because I knew if I did see him, it'd likely be the last time. I cried because all I've wanted to do for the longest time is release this weight somehow, and be free. I've tried everything I can think of - I wrote his name on pieces of paper, set them alight and watched them burn; I've said the prayers, sought answers in the implied wisdom of books, magazines and even google; I read 'the book' and it didn't help. I've tried distraction, ignorance, substitution - but it doesn't work for long. It is not with pride that I speak of these feelings; I find no pleasure in admitting how 'this' consumes me, and makes me weak.
Amongst my crying, I decided it might be a good idea to get it all out - write him a letter and give it to him, spill it all out on the page - release the caged bird and come what may. When I woke the following morning, the idea had lost some of its lustre. The large risk with little hope of return; and writing it down with the mighty pen, making it real - so he could show his friends or my coworkers and laugh? Could I do it in person if I had the chance? Probably not, perhaps if I didn't have to look him in the eye.
And then, the unimaginable happened. I received a text, asking me if I might want to meet for coffee Saturday morning. And then the kicker - I couldn't do it. My Saturday morning was not free - I had a commitment I couldn't shift, even if I wanted to. His Saturday afternoon was not free... I think it's obvious how it goes. So, I missed out - again.
If I did write him a letter, I don't know where I would start. Perhaps I would tell him that when I saw him sitting alone in the staffroom after the weekend he had buried his Grandfather, all I wanted to do was hug him when he thanked me for my condolences. I could've mopped his sadness with a cloth it was so thick. But there has always been this space between us. A line I didn't cross because I didn't trust my feelings, because I didn't believe anything could be reciprocated. Maybe I'd tell him that. I would probably tell him I wouldn't write to him anymore because it's just too painful. I don't want my heart to be closed, but to leave it open is too much to bear.
My friend M tells me that when I go to Greece in a few weeks time, that I should "fuck around" with the boys "but just don't marry any". I don't think I have it in me to do that.
If time doesn't heal this wound in the near future, I don't know what I'll do.
SB xx
It is an uncomfortable admission, for me to say that a few nights ago I bawled my eyes out, weeping well beyond the stroke of midnight - all because I just didn't know how to sit with these feelings anymore. I still don't.
It is an inconvenient truth, but a truth nonetheless, that he is many, many hundreds of kilometers away - with no reason to return, no reason at all to think he left somebody behind.
I cried because I knew he was coming here this weekend - because I knew if I did see him, it'd likely be the last time. I cried because all I've wanted to do for the longest time is release this weight somehow, and be free. I've tried everything I can think of - I wrote his name on pieces of paper, set them alight and watched them burn; I've said the prayers, sought answers in the implied wisdom of books, magazines and even google; I read 'the book' and it didn't help. I've tried distraction, ignorance, substitution - but it doesn't work for long. It is not with pride that I speak of these feelings; I find no pleasure in admitting how 'this' consumes me, and makes me weak.
Amongst my crying, I decided it might be a good idea to get it all out - write him a letter and give it to him, spill it all out on the page - release the caged bird and come what may. When I woke the following morning, the idea had lost some of its lustre. The large risk with little hope of return; and writing it down with the mighty pen, making it real - so he could show his friends or my coworkers and laugh? Could I do it in person if I had the chance? Probably not, perhaps if I didn't have to look him in the eye.
And then, the unimaginable happened. I received a text, asking me if I might want to meet for coffee Saturday morning. And then the kicker - I couldn't do it. My Saturday morning was not free - I had a commitment I couldn't shift, even if I wanted to. His Saturday afternoon was not free... I think it's obvious how it goes. So, I missed out - again.
If I did write him a letter, I don't know where I would start. Perhaps I would tell him that when I saw him sitting alone in the staffroom after the weekend he had buried his Grandfather, all I wanted to do was hug him when he thanked me for my condolences. I could've mopped his sadness with a cloth it was so thick. But there has always been this space between us. A line I didn't cross because I didn't trust my feelings, because I didn't believe anything could be reciprocated. Maybe I'd tell him that. I would probably tell him I wouldn't write to him anymore because it's just too painful. I don't want my heart to be closed, but to leave it open is too much to bear.
My friend M tells me that when I go to Greece in a few weeks time, that I should "fuck around" with the boys "but just don't marry any". I don't think I have it in me to do that.
If time doesn't heal this wound in the near future, I don't know what I'll do.
SB xx
love never runs on time
Real love can be found here. If I ever get married, this will be one of my special songs.
Love may have come to town this weekend, but I think I missed it (again).
SB xx
Love may have come to town this weekend, but I think I missed it (again).
SB xx
Friday, July 22, 2011
a kiss with a fist is better than none...maybe
I gave an older man some directions in the building today - he was looking for a particular department and was a little lost. He put his hand out at our conversations end, so I put out mine in response, expecting a friendly hand shake - it started as a handshake and ended in him kissing me on my wrist! Why God, why must they always be shabby, old and crazy? I can handle me some crazy - but how about a little youth and hotness too!?
In other news, I went to make a phone call at work, picked up the handset and went to dial the number - ON MY KEYBOARD!! Thank God it's Friday!
I sent John a 'travel safe' SMS today, as I know he is travelling. Nil response. I wish there was a way to retract text messages. I wish there was a way to retract feelings and time too.
Guess it's just me and the crazy's from here on in.
SB xx
In other news, I went to make a phone call at work, picked up the handset and went to dial the number - ON MY KEYBOARD!! Thank God it's Friday!
I sent John a 'travel safe' SMS today, as I know he is travelling. Nil response. I wish there was a way to retract text messages. I wish there was a way to retract feelings and time too.
Guess it's just me and the crazy's from here on in.
SB xx
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
in dreams
The waking have one world in common; sleepers have each a private world of his own.
Heraclitus
Sunday, July 17, 2011
The most beautiful lies
It is beginning to rain - a soft sprinkling, as if the clouds are undecided. The world rains its tears for me, because mine are absent.
"Bring it down, let it pour!" I will this worldly release that I can't seem to give myself. I am sad at reality's bleak picture, but I am beyond tears.
What's wrong? What's wrong? Everything and nothing; that is, everything I thought was real but was really nothing at all. I've been making out like he's been untrue; a man of poor character. I am the poor character - I've been telling myself the most wonderful untruths...oh, the most beautiful lies.
Clare Bowditch sings this song called "the most beautiful lies". She has released this amazing stripped down version, where she casts out her voice which is soaked with pain, fury and heartbreak...and beauty, such beauty. It is a heavy cloud of emotion that surrounds you, lifts you from the ground and by songs ends, you have been dropped from the great height to which you soared.
I have been telling myself many wonderful lies; painted many false pictures. I'm not sure what is worse - knowing these things are untrue, or realising I was the one to falsify everything.
If I could separate from this part of my consciousness; split myself in two and remove her like a carbon copy - I would sit her down in a cold, dark room and force her to look me in the eyes. She has been resourceful and completely unrelenting.
I have shared her anger and disappointment. I bought her dreams easily, because they have been mine too. I would have paid anything. But John never promised me these things. He never promised me anything; all I wanted was something.
Reality is blinding now.
At best - at very best, he is a friend. He wants my cookies and cupcakes and goodwill and nothing more. And I stupidly give him everything I have; I'd give him everything I could be - for a chance. I am disgusting. A total fucking idiot.
I close my eyes. I know it's easier to want someone I can't have. Easier to give love un-returned, than to give it and hope it is given back. Why want a man standing next to me, who might hurt me, when I can send my heart away without the risks?
Here it comes. Can you hear the thundering? It's really starting to reign now.
SB xx
"Bring it down, let it pour!" I will this worldly release that I can't seem to give myself. I am sad at reality's bleak picture, but I am beyond tears.
What's wrong? What's wrong? Everything and nothing; that is, everything I thought was real but was really nothing at all. I've been making out like he's been untrue; a man of poor character. I am the poor character - I've been telling myself the most wonderful untruths...oh, the most beautiful lies.
Clare Bowditch sings this song called "the most beautiful lies". She has released this amazing stripped down version, where she casts out her voice which is soaked with pain, fury and heartbreak...and beauty, such beauty. It is a heavy cloud of emotion that surrounds you, lifts you from the ground and by songs ends, you have been dropped from the great height to which you soared.
I have been telling myself many wonderful lies; painted many false pictures. I'm not sure what is worse - knowing these things are untrue, or realising I was the one to falsify everything.
If I could separate from this part of my consciousness; split myself in two and remove her like a carbon copy - I would sit her down in a cold, dark room and force her to look me in the eyes. She has been resourceful and completely unrelenting.
I have shared her anger and disappointment. I bought her dreams easily, because they have been mine too. I would have paid anything. But John never promised me these things. He never promised me anything; all I wanted was something.
Reality is blinding now.
At best - at very best, he is a friend. He wants my cookies and cupcakes and goodwill and nothing more. And I stupidly give him everything I have; I'd give him everything I could be - for a chance. I am disgusting. A total fucking idiot.
I close my eyes. I know it's easier to want someone I can't have. Easier to give love un-returned, than to give it and hope it is given back. Why want a man standing next to me, who might hurt me, when I can send my heart away without the risks?
Here it comes. Can you hear the thundering? It's really starting to reign now.
SB xx
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
I don't want to know - two ways
I can't begin to explain how I feel when I am reminded that John is away doing many things, and undoubtedly, many women. I know I don't really have the right to feel this way - but I feel that I'd just rather not know. I'd rather those realities occupy the silence between us, and be the things we don't talk about. If you could hear my heart being chipped away slowly - it would sound something like these two amazing Fleetwood Mac songs. I'm having a bit of a love affair with Fleetwood Mac right now - and it's just as messy as you'd expect...
I don't want to know
I don't want to know the reasons why
Love keeps right on walking down the line
I don't want to stand between you and love
Honey, I just want you to feel fine Finally baby
The truth has come down now
Take a listen to your spirit
It's crying out loud.
Try to believe
You say you love me, but you don't know
You got me rocking and a-reeling
Oh I don't want to know the reasons why
Love keeps right on walking down the line
I don't want to stand between you and love
Honey, I just want you to feel fine Finally baby
The truth has been told
Now you tell me that I'm crazy
That's nothing that I didn't know
Trying to survive
You say you love me, but you don't know
You got me rocking and a-reeling I don't want to know the reasons why
Love keeps right on walking down the line
I don't want to stand between you and love
Honey, take a little time
SB xx
I don't want to know
I don't want to know the reasons why
Love keeps right on walking down the line
I don't want to stand between you and love
Honey, I just want you to feel fine Finally baby
The truth has come down now
Take a listen to your spirit
It's crying out loud.
Try to believe
You say you love me, but you don't know
You got me rocking and a-reeling
Oh I don't want to know the reasons why
Love keeps right on walking down the line
I don't want to stand between you and love
Honey, I just want you to feel fine Finally baby
The truth has been told
Now you tell me that I'm crazy
That's nothing that I didn't know
Trying to survive
You say you love me, but you don't know
You got me rocking and a-reeling I don't want to know the reasons why
Love keeps right on walking down the line
I don't want to stand between you and love
Honey, take a little time
SB xx
Monday, July 11, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
the lonely middle
I can't say for sure how I am feeling at the moment. Disappointed. Disabled. Discarded. Dejected. It's a start.
I sit here, tired eyes, worn heart and I wonder, is there ever going to be anyone - anyone who is going to understand me; or anyone who is going to want to understand me and then stick around?
It's been an isolating week. I've felt very much like a lone soldier - except I seem to have misplaced my fight. I'm standing in the trenches - muddy, cold and battered and I can't bring myself to raise my weapon. I keep waiting for things to turn on their side, but they never do.
I don't even have the energy to be angry or passionate. I'm walking that line between here and there and it is an awkward place to be.
In a few weeks time I will be setting off overseas - to places beyond my imagination - the stuff of postcards and wall prints. When I can move beyond the stress of organising it; when I can think about just being in the moments, I figure I won't feel so empty then. I'll fill my experience cup, and perhaps when I return home, plentiful cup in hand - I will be able to drink from the warming memories and remember what it was like to be somewhere other than here. Remembering, that for at least a time, I didn't always dwell in this place.
SB xx
I sit here, tired eyes, worn heart and I wonder, is there ever going to be anyone - anyone who is going to understand me; or anyone who is going to want to understand me and then stick around?
It's been an isolating week. I've felt very much like a lone soldier - except I seem to have misplaced my fight. I'm standing in the trenches - muddy, cold and battered and I can't bring myself to raise my weapon. I keep waiting for things to turn on their side, but they never do.
I don't even have the energy to be angry or passionate. I'm walking that line between here and there and it is an awkward place to be.
In a few weeks time I will be setting off overseas - to places beyond my imagination - the stuff of postcards and wall prints. When I can move beyond the stress of organising it; when I can think about just being in the moments, I figure I won't feel so empty then. I'll fill my experience cup, and perhaps when I return home, plentiful cup in hand - I will be able to drink from the warming memories and remember what it was like to be somewhere other than here. Remembering, that for at least a time, I didn't always dwell in this place.
SB xx
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
somebody that I used to know
I have a soft spot for Gotye, and now he's released a brilliant new song - I love him even more. Check out the clip here. Fits me perfectly right now.
Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember
You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end
Always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done
And I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know...
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know...
SB xx
Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember
You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end
Always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done
And I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know...
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
You didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know...
SB xx
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
night mirrors
This clever dance I do; tip-toed, waving my arms about in random fashion, as if my body were saying whatever, when inside it really screams see me! rescue me! It feels like pain but looks like complacency. I think I'm being clever, that I'm fooling everyone - when really, I'm just fooling myself.
At dawn I am drunk with the possibilities of a new day - but at night, I know the score. Darkness brings with it clarity, and silence.. and time to think. Too much time spent in the void.
I fight sleep, and cry. Last night, my own audible giggles woke me from my sleep. Someone is having fun at my expense.
Who am I kidding? He's not coming; he's not coming to save me. I'm going to have to save myself.
SB xx
At dawn I am drunk with the possibilities of a new day - but at night, I know the score. Darkness brings with it clarity, and silence.. and time to think. Too much time spent in the void.
I fight sleep, and cry. Last night, my own audible giggles woke me from my sleep. Someone is having fun at my expense.
Who am I kidding? He's not coming; he's not coming to save me. I'm going to have to save myself.
SB xx
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)