Take Apart My Head.

Mending

Can't I hold on to your fast beating heart while every breath gives me life?

I came to take your mind off the things that make you fear every school or crowded building, the things that cause you to look for an exit every time you enter the cinema.

Your very existence is a remarkably amazing piece of art in a museum of fools and untouched specs of cobwebs and dust

I happen to be one of those fools, a spectator of the beautiful piece of art you are, I understand your complexities and colors.

You think you're awful, and I being a fool to tell you you're wrong, how can I tell you you're special when I'm just a sunken ship that was made specifically to float?

Every chromosome wakes at your touch.

An infinity of words that I could use to tell you how much you mean to me, yet I use only three.

Why? Why do I get like that? Why do I ask you every stupid question I can when I feel so alone?

Why do I call you and become silent when you answer and say hello?

Why does my happiness fade when I leave your bed?

I am here to help fill in your blanks even when mine are still mending.

You give me a look that I fall in love with time after time and its the same look that puts the stars in the sky and all the Sapphire's in the world to absolute shame.

Every flower you ever picked for me wilts and I throw it away.

But I am not here to be like a flower, to fill you with artificial happiness and last only a couple of days.

A life time of missed opportunities spent on feelings that destroy every aspect of love in kids misinterpreted as killers.

They never asked for it, "Do you still believe in god?" I hear my mom ask after a Sunday morning spent in a place where I feel so painfully alone.

I don't want her to worry and I don't want to start an argument, so I answer with lies that roll off my tongue so perfectly that I scare myself into believing that I might be a mythomane.

I would love to submerge myself in people who question the divine existence of a man who is supposed to take away my pain, yet I sit alone at night wishing I could smoke a blunt to mend the pain or scream my lungs out ; but in fear of my parents wake I lightly punch my thighs and pinch my arms until they turn a light pink.

I was pushed into my beliefs and now that I want to try and change my thinking it begins to be so difficult to tell them anything, so I stay silent.

My only solace is the promise of my love and the promise of the future, the only solace is running away with the person I care about.

Is this the way a toy feels when it's batteries run dry? because I feel like sleeping all day to distract myself from crying.

I watch re-runs of old cartoons that make me feel nostalgic & eat all the food I can to fill the gaps.

What even are the gaps? how did I let them get there in the first place?

Christmas used to be my favorite Holiday, but the IPA bottles and Budweiser cans scare me, for I fear that my dad will throw them at our brightly lit Christmas tree as he slurs his words and focuses most of his attention on trying to stand up straight.

He flips the dinner table over and I watch my moms face fade to anger and sadness she starts to cry and I try to shovel up my Christmas dinner off the ground because I know that's the only meal I'm recieving tonight.

How can I believe in God? How can I believe after my world and the world around me keeps handing me nooses to hang around my neck?

I am truly a walking enigma, I distract myself and make people laugh to hide and forget the pain.

I am not happy.

There I said it.

But I'm going to pretend like I am, until I actually begin to believe it.

It all just feels so real.