When things fall apart, you're the shadow that I see. You're the shadow I try to run to, the one that can attempt to save me. I run to you to see if you'll hold out your arms. They always remain by your sides. You watch me every time, watch me collapse in front of you, like a devotee unto their master. Somebody to hold me is all I need, but close proximity daunts me. We lay down beside each other and stare at the same sky. We see the same sun, the same stars. But my world is far removed from yours. My world is in shades of grey. My world stopped believing in love. My world does not turn. If only turning back time was possible. Then maybe, just maybe...
Desperate to consume the words I cannot say, I watch and I read and I listen. The screen flickers, the pages turn and the music shuffles. I see them and I understand them and I hear them thrum through my soul. Guitar strings twang against my legs to bring me down, keyboard keys clang to create a cacophony of sound to render me speechless, voices drown out my thoughts until I can't distinguish mine from others'. Those little words that strike at my core, that weave their way into my brain, that reside on my lips...
Promises are never made to be broken, that is not the law of the universe. Promises are made to be held, made to be comforting, made to keep relationships from being torn limb to limb. Buildings are made to be broken, to be rebuilt, to be replaced. Promises are not. Bones are made to be broken, made to be weathered, made to be decayed. Bones no longer support but promises...
You've hurt me. Time and time again. Still, I can't help but keep you together, listen to your laments, clean up your messes. I return again and again, to make sure you're okay because I do not want to be you. How can I ever be as low as you? How can I ever be as immature as you? Someone too reasonable like me, could never let go. If ignorance is bliss, then where is my contentment? The joy is only for you. You, you, you. You and your faux humility, you and your faux care, you and your faux...
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Paracosmic Kalopsia
Randoma detailed, imaginary world that is thought to be more beautiful than it really is. -poems and prose and short stories TW: mentions of suicide/self harm/violence. Please be cautious.
