Monday, 14 December 2015

Barbiturates and bravery

I do not understand the metal men with painted arms whose pictures she likes to display , I do not understand why my heart loses track of time and my breath catches when her name is mentioned , I envy the thickness of her hair while reminding myself that I am not just my deficiencies wrapped up in black and there is so much more to the depths of this sky than the stars that take up their places too brightly too unmoving and resistant, I do not understand my need to apologise , I do not understand why I think this will survive , why I like to believe I will survive this and the sadness in the universe won't just consume me whole in a bottle of barbiturates , in a deliberate carelessness , in a wish for escape on stars that were dead . I cannot understand why my hands shiver when I reach for the bottle after everything I've had to apologise for and a while longer wasn't nearly short enough for this soul , atleast not in this world and I will breathe the last exhale of resigned release,  I'll fall softly to this marble floor , it will caress the limp hands I used to count blessings with in its cool embrace and it will reflect the blood that drains out of eyes that were too tired to fight back and too tired to live and maybe survival was never about how easily we lived , maybe it was about how happily we welcomed leaving life behind .

Do not make homes out of people who cut the life out of you with words like razor blades , do not make homes out of memories , do not make home out of out of photographs , do not mistake pain for honesty , and do not think that everyone who wears his heart on his sleeve is going to treat you like you're priceless, do not mistake scars for bravery , do not make the mistake of believing people are capable of saving themselves let alone saving you from the emptiness of your soul .

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