I feel memories like how others feel touches.
Brush of the lips.
A Hand, a kiss?
Were you ever really there?
Voices, stares, I know them all.
They've awaited my fall.
My relapse into you.
I thought I was stronger than this, can I even say I know that statement exists?
Who am I?
Do I fall in love as quickly as fingertips meet skin?
Or do I build up my walls. Build them high with diligence, never allowing anyone really in.
Can I have both?
My skin is in need of repair.
I abused it knowledgeably, resulting into bruises and tears.
Alas my eyes begin to close, I let the relevance of sleep sweep me away.
No further delay, this allows my mind to play.
Creating, no more debating, I know what I want, I shall receive it.
It all begins with a simple dream, to have me wake up and mend the seams of my life.
Into a brightly embroidered quilt, with pretty, little images to match.
Making my life flourish and bloom.
Then I wake up.
Not much has shifted, my mind still has yet to be lifted from all this pain.
Transition is nowhere to be found.
I'm laying on the ground, crying.
I'm so immensely sick of all the lying.
Your father lies.
Your mother lies.
Your sister, brother lies.
Your closet friend lies.
You lie to yourself to evade the pain of the original lies that surround you.