If I show you now. Would things be different?
If I show them now. Would it have ended differently?
If I show you now. Would you listen?
If I show them now. Would they understand? How I need to be placed back together. How I must be held.
If I show you now. Would you do as I ask? The only thing to fix me now.
If I show them now. Would they be scared? Would the word monster be thrown around or would my darkest thoughts be nothing to them, to you?
If I show you now. Would my own worries matter. Or would, like always, my words be ignored to continue your own point. Yet I'm somehow still your diamond?
If I show them now. All of them. I'd just be the rose. Delicate. Wilting. Dying. With droplets of water perched on the rich petals. The water, tears most likely, running down pale skin, streaks of black left behind. The pretty rose, teardrops as it's sequins, catching the sunlight in the early morning shower.
If I show you now. Just you. It would be ignored. Irrelevant to the point. I'm sorry, I disturbed your own monologue of text messages. I'll go, disappear once again.
If I show them. Every last one of them, how I'm the rose lost in the rain. Left behind on the concrete to just be picked up once again. Dusted off and placed in a new vase, just to get poured on again. Swept away by the wind. Velvet petals dancing in the storm, releasing their heavy emotions. People will walk past the vibrant flora not noticing the wilting sides. How the petals are curling to protect themselves. Smaller and smaller it gets and the smaller and smaller I seem.
If I show you. How I'm drenched in the rain. Crying over you. The person who looks at me through blinded eyes and listens to me but never hears.
If I show them all, how I'm drenched in the rain. They wouldn't believe it. The beautiful flowers and the smiling blondes don't get hurt, right? They're too perfect. But storms do come. Hurricanes and tornadoes. Fights and breakups. Something we can't control. No progress made in the aftermath. Nothing. And in a blink of an eye, they're just gone. Someone new maybe? Or off with someone else.
However few remember the person left behind. Or that rose dropped in the rain. Drenched by their own storm. Their own inner demons. Something you should understand, right?
~ La Fin
