It's funny how they raise you, isn't it?
They tell you to be honest, and you find out they never were Are you asking me, so I don't end up like you? You say, no matter what, you'll be proud But let's not pretend that your mind isn't thinking of green paper Because mine is not, You see, I do not care so much For those Ominous things, though perhaps I am being naive To pretend like those demons will not accept freedom from possession No. No, I will not let your thoughts consume me But perhaps they already have, please do not feed me your lies I was not raised to have a palate for insincerity And I cannot guarantee I will acquire the taste So let us not pretend that you always be proud, Should I announce my preferences, your faces would contort Like it did that evening, into an expression of extreme distaste An expression of strangers, like we had never met before Somehow you ask me of my plans, at dinner, it has come up again And I have opened my mouth, and I see that I have insulted you I insulted you and your throne of royalty, I insulted you. Do not pretend like you are satisfied. Your lies are an awful meal. Let's not pretend that you are proud of those words, Let us not pretend you took care to read them, Those words I have fashioned with my own hands, sometimes strategically, Onto my only friend - paper - Let us not pretend you approve of our relationship. We do not enjoy your meal of lies.
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You were so dangerous. There were these walls of fire all around you, but I stepped in, I convinced myself I could put out the flame. And if I couldn't put it out, at least it was engulfing us, together. I was a piece of glass, and in the beginning you took so much care to treat me in that way. I was covered in innocence, and it made you so glad. Was innocence a foreign friend of yours? Was innocence, a mutual feeling we shared, by chance? No. No. It could not have been so. We reached for each other because we craved for what the other had. Or, was that only me? It was my youth in which I was trapped, I had no way to go but to reach for anything that felt like feeling. Something. Feeling something. And now that I am older, I don't believe I reached for love, I believe I jumped for it. I jumped for something that wasn't there. Was it all a lie? I am inclined to believe so now. It was so beautiful. Our little circle of fake love. I sang to you the songs I was embarrassed to tell others I loved. For fear they wouldn't understand. You understand. I know you understood it all. But you other interests in your mind. We time traveled, back to the years of rock 'n roll, and I let you navigate my knowledge to understand those things I was too young to understand. But you took my hours and placed them within your grasp, and you made me mature faster than I was perhaps intended to. Your footprint was destined to become a bruise on my heart. And I'm smart about those things, I knew it was coming, I spoke of it's failure openly. I knew you would be a memory, a memory that is untouchable. I think of you still. I still think of you. I miss our time travels, but I have come to understand I will always be the only pilot of my plane. And I only go forward, while you time travel into the past. But I thank you. I thank you.
There was a time when you had sparked an interest inside of me
And the flame, therein, last for quite some time, as we walked Through memories and wrote them down and orated them, together And we became quite comfortable, there, at the parks and the restaurants We exchanged word of promise and birthday letters as contracts Which we signed an infinite friendship, for it had so seemed that way And you gave me chances and I gave you chances I was allotted more time to think about the promises I had broken, and You were swore you would be patient, for it was never my duty to give my all to you. Though so many times, had I sworn that the duty was mine, but I just couldn't keep it. And I'm so sorry I'm so sorry But we grew bigger, and we left the walls of high school, And we parted, like two branches of a tree, coming from the same bark, but splitting to produce our own leaves, and you chose the green ones, And I, the red ones, I stopped. I stopped being your friend. And when I had felt like I had almost grown to touch the sky, You never asked how the view was You didn't ask me if the rain hurt a bit harder now that I was growing along, But you made sure to tell me how it was better to stay put, and I had taken Stupid risks, and you had made the better decisions. And I sat there, and I listened to your experiences, and we sat together, But you never asked how my side of the tree was, You just complimented how life was on your side, And so you continued to tell me all those stories, sometimes sad, mostly happy, But I forgot to ask you; When did you stop being you? |
AuthorI like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me. © 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.
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