I’ve recovered from the darkest nights. I guess when they say “survival is nothing more than recovering,” I’ve done it all. But if I recovered from all of these lonesome nights that dripped with blood and tears – the tears that dried into large crusted circles on my pillows – what does that say about my weakness? “Crying is not a sign of weakness. No baby. It’s a sign of strength. Especially when you show your heart. And I always saw your heart.”
But those tears? Yea those tears. Yea those tears, well they created pain inevitable to even your voice. And even as your thoughts built the armor on my heart, I wear to this day, I had yet to recover. And that as my biggest flaw, you failed to see.
I screamed at you - suddenly louder than all the madness in my mind – you disappeared. Only to emerge stronger, faster, more defiant than ever before.
And then the phone rang one night. “I’m leaving tomorrow and I just wanted to hear your voice,” you said. And with those words you kissed my soul even more. I fell into a frenzy that sent shivers down my spine.
And I can remember wanting nothing more than to be in your skin.
“Metaphysical pleasures and faded dreams, baby.”