I falling, tumbling towards darkness. I want to speak. God, let me repent! Save me from my sins! I want to be good! I want the hope and freedom that comes in your power! I want to feel your glory! I want to love the Lord! But I want the fires of hell and my sin unforgiven. I want the life I deserve and for the tears to never destroy this burning feeling.
I just want to lie to myself. If I could from myself that what I want so desperately to do, I would. If I could block the memory and deny the incident, I would never second guess it. But who can do this but myself? Someone tell me why I'm so wrong.
I would see and you would see. Cuts on my wrists, legs, chest. All that I want is that broken feeling to be lost in the hormones of pain, but I will never fall again.
If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything.
The red on my arm reminds me of the days when I was allowed to be wrong.
'rocking, motion,
hold your knees.
Sickness, crying,
baby, please.
gripping, pulling,
denied of self.
Running freely,
cherry for shelf.'
Afterthought:
What really makes these tears worth crying? They will never satisfy my own self-hatred, my personal disappointment, my mistake-caused suffering. One moment of stupidity, but the simplicity is my downfall.
I know what's wrong with everything; it's crystal clear. Actually, she's been staring me in the face, every time I look in the mirror and see the secrets in her eyes. It's been me all along. I'm every fight, every wrongdoing, all the tears, worry, and hate in my life.
I made the mistake of forgetting my place (as a girlfriend and as a descent person). I cheated. I was wrong. ME ME ME. Don't you get it? I reached out. It was my decision and my fault. You can blame him and say what you want, but you know it's tearing me apart.
That delicate line between friends and boyfriends. It's like a teeter-totter of love. Shouldn't your friends always come before that guy? But, really, does it apply when my boyfriends stick around longer than my friends? In my world, boys don't come and go like seasons. I can respect his decision, but you never would.
Don't yell at me about saying no. I put my foot down. So did he. Back down. I know where to push and where to stay behind the line. I tread carefully on the issues of those important to me.
Like a wanderer stumbling upon a perfect berry, he waited for it to ripen. The berry was sweet and smooth. That berry gave the wanderer everything she had and more. He ate the berry. The soul of the berry hopes that her taste lingers with him a little longer.
Can't Stop Listening to "Exile Vilify" by The National.
Please. Don't leave me.
