Circumstantial Awakenings

Brush strokes on a canvas of empty words and baby steps, cracked molding along the floorboards down the hallway to your little white room.  It's empty now, but that's just how I'd like to it be.  Nothing left to hold me back or tie my hands while I try to swim, forcing me to kick just to keep my chest from filling with water, a better way to live.  I wish you would choke on every compliment you ever paid me, every respect you ever showed me, I wish you would cry for every tear I spilled over your sorry excuse for a being.  Fuck you!  You don't care as much as I did, then what was the point?  Agony is irony and one-sided agony is a disaster; what a wrecking ball this has been, since the beginning, and I won't deny I played a vital part in our pretty little destructive nature.  Oh but who am I joking with, we'll never get to reopen this.  Quit probing me, 'what if' exited my vocabulary long ago, you're just a notion now but damn me if that notion won't simply die.  So what if I'm sentimental, I can get pretty lit up every now and again but these ugly nights that refuse to end and I've begun to fill with hollow words and gestures, explanations of places I've never been and pieces of you I only wished I had experienced.  And tears, my god, tears.  Practicing restraint, beautiful self control, but I won't lie because every now and again my tongue is tied and my chest gets the best of me and I sigh loudly before pushing the "send" button.  Then I wonder why I'm doing what I'm doing, what it is I'm chasing after, what I won't let go of.

I'll let you know when I figure it out.

Soundtrack: Just fingers on a keyboard.