Cold fish, fluid and elusively effervescent,
My emotions sometimes just don’t seem so present...
Or concerned, or aware, of the impact I had on you.
Like a stamp pressed deep in ocean navy blue,
This waxwork stands noble and royally untrue,
Meanwhile you’re melting as I erode into nothing.
Who knows what lows I'll steep to or whether I'll be stopping.
Don’t let me break your heart
I’m not the one, just only one part
Of the story, a momentary glory
For which will eventually cease
Don’t compound this defeat
By clinging on to me
That person who already told you
That she wished to be free
To find herself, to go it alone
But I’ll still feel love for you
As if you were my own
Love is just a funny thing
It’ll make you cry, it’ll make you sing
Or maybe that fling didn’t mean a single thing
But perhaps it did - so don’t lie
Don’t pretend you didn’t spend a night by their side
Don’t pretend you didn’t lead them this way
Just because your own heart had no intention to stay
Don’t lead on the bright and light hearted
Because you have to be careful of what you have started
This year I’ve broken hearts
While tending to my own
But little had I known
I had done all this damage, alone.
So often when I feel immersed and flooded in poignant emotion, is when I get the overwhelming urge to purge this pain on paper. I call it pain, but it softly lulls and has an air of catharsis cradling it, uncovering and metamorphosing me into yet another form. I’m constantly shifting, flitting and fluttering between has-beens and momentary skips into bliss. Do I miss you, still? I’m just so confused. I began this script in an attempt to control, grasp and bottle how I feel, but the thing is, I can’t tailor what I feel. Currently what it seems is that I’m trying to steal myself from the reality, that I’m not sure if this still hurts, works or where it’s going. Are we still glowing? There’s just no way of knowing. Do I keep going, as I felt so compelled today? To travel cross country to say the usual things I say. To say that I love you, how hard it was to let go, ending with - do you still want me, surely you should know? I don’t, though. That’s the issue. I’ll cry, I need a tissue, but are these tears real or just the upmost confusion. Do I still love you, or is this total delusion? Are you truly compatible with this heart within me? Do you yearn to be free and see the world I see? Or are you scared, and lost - also, just like me. Are we clinging on to a dysfunctional love that still, and will always, run deeply.