||[Aug. 15th, 2010|09:46 pm]
My limbs are heavy like my heart. |
Have some words I wrote before that I never meant. I don't mean it, any of it, because I don't know. It's all heart break, & not over boys that don't love me. Heart break over forever-type things, parents, people who see my face but don't know it anymore even though they should. Even though they held my child hands, and took me for ice cream every weekend when my mother wanted an afternoon to herself.
“I think I’m dead” she says. It is somewhere near 2am & the smoke sits quiet in the air around them. She leans forward, her hand against his as she takes the cigarette. Inhale, exhale, her eyes never leaving his face. It is several minutes before she speaks again.
“There are lies. Lies. Inside my head and I can’t get out.”
He raises an eyebrow but remains silent. She drops her gaze, as if embarrassed, runs a finger around the edge of her glass, takes another drag from the cigarette. He doesn’t quite know what to do; one wrong move & she will scatter away into the night.
He takes her hand, under the guise of reclaiming his cigarette, hoping that the touch will let her know everything he can’t quite bring himself to say.
& he wants to tell the world just how beautiful she is but it’s really not his style.
Lies, all of it. Lies.