flowersandfilm

sometimes i’m not there i am here, but i’m not there do you ever feel this skeletal? cling wrap limbs of jelly at most cause i gaze blankly every time the people zig zag and i can just see you through the peekaboo gaps that allow what if i just melt right here lay down and listen to the lines and specks of light waltzing perhaps i’ll learn to dance the questions that make the walls of my lungs shift spin the heart on my sleeve because i want every tongue twisting click every

words are the most dangerous weapons i know they don’t cut how pictures do because every picture cues whether he and her were there every tainted dance of an eye is caught in frame to truth but syllabic picturesques glances are pressed for you not dare to ask of truth for the flowers they dried within each page marvel so pretty so the tales they tell are just as pretty too when, if i can i write i perfect personas that scrabble swords until i won’t and the things i see no lon

they say we need to find a way to hold on to ourselves even when we are gone even when we don’t know who we are, who we’re holding onto because who else will do that for us who else will say that we were here i want to tell her that i miss her, even when she is here but how do you miss someone and also be glad they’re not around maybe i’m just a sucker for things that are no longer with me a sadist disguised as a masochist it’s all the same because it’s just her and me and i’