Commit This to Memory

Hazel-green

What I remember from those shady lines and dark patches, bouts of rage and angry tears. Now the rage remains, highly concealed. So it does not show but inside it's brewing and storming, it leaves me with regrets. Much like how colours are smudged and instead of warm fuzzy feelings, it's so distasteful it makes you feel nauseous.

I so very much want to bare myself to you, from the start we've hit it off, so I thought. Then I saw what it really was, and that I was just one in a line of others. Even as I sit right next to you I feel a million miles away, the words I want to say never come out. It's painful to sit there watching my own mistakes and how you hit it off with others. Still I would remain seated just for the sake of being near.

Is it crazy of me to say, I think I catch a hint of your interest just in the things you say. It's s very slight and so very random, I wonder if you're into mind games. It's more likely that I'm reading too much but something in me holds on to those thoughts, even though all reason cross their path, everyone needs something to hold on to, however far fetched and however naive they would seem to be. I'm one of everyone and I'm holding on to this.

When the axe falls, perhaps that's when I'll let it go, for now I hope you'll know that I'm holding on and in holding on, I'm letting go. That you'll never know, because much as I said I want to bare it all, there are just somethings everyone holds on to, and these secrets will always be a part of them.

All I'm tring to do is to stay balanced and not slip under. But will I be able to achieve just the right control in how much to let go and how hard to hold on. At least there will be no regrets because damn, something in me just knows this is right, and it hurts me to say this but in all these things, and I know somewhere, it'll take more than a miracle for my dream to turn into reality, because in reality dreams are only as real as fake.

That was just one load off my chest.

love, 23:07
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