there are certain things i cannot say. we'll step to, too much to the left. after all we are just shouting over a mine field no matter how sweet or soft. questions are flying and we are just two idiots tempting risk.
i'm no storyteller, just a girl who likes to drink and talk about herself. i don't see words when i look at the world. happy? if you are truly asking and want the deep answer i would give if you asked in a deep way then yes, yes i am. however i am the bird who struggles. maybe that is hard to watch but i don't give a fuck because when you see me fly... i forget i am woman sometimes. i forget i fit in these little groups. bisexual. artist. fat. fighter. i'm not here to win a category, i want the whole damn thing because that's what i see.
it's hard to understand how i can reach one part of you but not the other.
i've decided that you were meant to be appreciated from afar. you are your own serial killer and it's beautiful but if i get too close my center comes apart. we are always swimming in your pool and when you came to mine, well that didn't turn out to well obviously. even now after all of this i still want to freaking smack you with sense. make you a website. help. but you don't want help, atleast not from me. i don't want to mince words but i am pretty sure you knew this long before you pressed your toes in my water. giving up on you feels like giving up on myself. i'm bitter about that. but still. as still as you are in your constant underwater.
that's where the letters are. not floating. not free. they are buried and dead and drowned in water. and lost. and their memory is made love to every night by the sea. of course that is where you put them. that kind of symmetry can only be compared to a circle. and ha. there it is.
all i can do is enjoy the shimmer, offer the reflect. because the story i tell makes no difference. it's a story you already know. i'm attracted to struggle. i am forever a bird. born to see. but i carry its weakness. i have an addiction to survival but not just mine. i have an addiction to showing people what i see. you'll never be able to stop me unless you become a bird or if you bury yourself under. i can't make you better and it's the one thing i cannot accept.
you don't want to be happy so much that you sacrificed this relationship in defense. it wasn't what i wanted or what i expected. this week has been great. exchanging words, renewing perspective. it's all be so nice and i thank you. but i am starting to feel again like i am the only one who lives in the real world. who is striving to goals. i am so willing to be attached. i looked at myself a lot. i promise i did. i played devil's advocate. every scene turned out the same, every twist, every way i could have been different, every degree of sway... it all the ended the same way.
you are ship all unto yourself. you beg and pray to find port. you dream of port, wide and welcoming. you are majestic and perfumed and many pick up the scent, go savage searching that damn sea but they fall. but i am bird, i have these wings. one day i just know where to look and i find you ship. but you are so big and i cannot lift you. i must find a way, the way. i must have this big beautiful ship. i drop a compass and you promise to use it as a guide. you promise to be at port in 20 hour's time.
i gave the letters back because i waited so long. i waited at sea. i hovered over you for weeks but you never pulled your anchor back. you held that compass and rejoiced. i sung. you feared using it wrong. i cooed. you were timid. i challenged you to a race. you lost the compass. i stole and found and threw down another. oooops. and another. i even pooped. nothing made you move. i went back to port and tried to live on faith but ship never did come.
so now my words to you own every inch of the sea. and i visit the ship just to see if it is still majestic. and it is. and to see if it still anchored. and it is. and to see if it wants my last compass. hmmmm. what exactly were you ever truly going to let me be except exactly who i am to you right now?