Hartaches and Larksongs

Of Former Things (Ode To The New)

But there's a wall between my heart

and the paper

that even

my hands cannot doubt.

Voiceless dreams

and

fading prayers.

I don't get it hah! but then I can. Fooled ya!

Where are you,

where are you!?

she keeps screaming

to my

smirking soul

through the warmth stoned over in her eyes,

I tell her,

"she's enjoying

a vacation"

with a smile. I get so angellic when I can't be an angel.

I'm feigning innocence over this (I know I'm failing)

I cannot tell her how I'm gone

because then that wouldn't be me,

talking.

I have changed

my name

To: Shammy

I do

the things people tell me

I can't

All because I can.

She still asks me where I am

and the only place

I can't be

in

is around.

You.

Saw.

Me in my underwear, in red sweaters and

making out,

within solitude,

of myself a fool (and you joined me, you brought coffee)

How I wanted you!

to understand though!

to look at me

was to want to know

how I did

not stop breathing

like you

made a joke of me?

I painted for you.

Tiny, pink floating

hearts on the surface of my blood

-y nails

and I can't think

We did not forget and

we shoved it

to the back

of our minds, dizzy

when we speak I can't speak

the way I do;

when I'm around with you

(You don't -you can't- allow it)

And I like the way you move

around like you're sure

the place won't fall and smash its head

to pieces and

have to plead for help

from you

-r strongish hands like

I did.

You make me feel

warm in

my own skin when I can't and thanks a lot

though I get too cold not looking at you

Now you make people

feel brave

and get me

so easily freezing

up my HPA.

You are the reminder

of my triumph

of or him

(Over him)