Not only did I not write this for you, but I wrote it for myself. I figured it was about time I started thinking for myself. You can spend your whole life trying to please other people, until you realise the only person who has to live with those decisions, those choices, compromises and sacrifices is yourself. So this is the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning. This is where it starts.
Sunday, 27 February 2011
Melting.
I may not remember every individual diamond encrusted, glittering sweet of a word you whisper to me
late at night,
But I can feel the shimmery haze of them
all lined up,
pressed together.
Each one squirming to be heard over the promises of the others.
How could the cold ever get a word in edge wise?
There's nowhere for it to go.
Your words drape over me,
I can feel them.
Your warmth is melting me,
turning me over on your tongue.
Don't spit me back out.
Thursday, 17 February 2011
Insatiable.
Sunday, 6 February 2011
Excess.
Theres something new pumping through my veins. Something so far from the vains of old.
Vanity brought me nowhere, but to the mirror time and time again.
''You are so beautiful.''
It was what every little girl had fought tooth and nail and claw to hear.
Sobbing into the pillow, 'tell me again, tell me again.''
But anything in excess is bad. And she found herself in front of the mirror time and time again.
Head unbowing, eyes unblinking
''You are so beautiful.''
She had so much more
but reflected in the mirror and all that she had been told,
she had nothing else.
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