Words We Cannot Speak

Changeable

Seasons bled into each other with your expectations of my soul.

Your hands of unruly
Defining me to become defiance when order was the structure of my actions.

Poetry flows back to slang
And what completed me was the reverse of solving a puzzle
(Missing pieces feel lost)

I will not spread hatred and hurtful words
When i want to caress kindness and represent qualities of me.

Manipulate me into some self destructive creation,
Force me to lose all opinion on philosophy; philosophy to shallow beliefs, because i am not allowed to argue for things bigger than either of us.

Naïve enough to believe that i should change like the tides when you were changeable enough to adoringly deceive me.

Sensibility and empathy are, to me, cherished but to you my laugh was too low or my eyes too wide.

I want to scream at my past
And it feels like watching a horror film
And trying to tell the victim to run from the sound in the woods
(The sound of your beating heart might as well be a fast melody of screeching strings).

Pollutants into my daydreams,
You criticised my attempt at new found (long lost) hope and sometimes your blatantly blunt views seemed over bearing.

I can laugh hysterically at my own words or form my own eclipses if i please.

Your mood seemed to matter more than my mind,
When the world was glowing in your darting eyes
Mine had to forget the encompassing feeling of minor.

A needle in one hand you stitched me to become who I vowed I would never be,
Now I am searching for myself in the void of your transparency.
-by holly boyd