the stories we tell ourselves

I wear this letter around my neck because I need a bit of you to hold onto. And I know it's just reaching. Reaching into nothingness and trying to make alchemy out of base metals that were never even there.

But sometimes we need our lies. Even the ones we tell ourselves.

Sometimes, those are the ones we need to hold onto most of all.

listen

What will you do when they start fading?
When the colours begin to blur, and the lights go out?
There are new pictures on your walls now. And you hear different voices everyday.

But somewhere far behind your eyes, the music hasn't changed. No-one can hear the tunes you play, but that doesn't matter. You don't need them.

But you will.
When the music stops.

waiting for amnesia

Oneday:

I'll look back, and the hurthaze will have cleared.

I'll see the eyes I loved to drown in

(I won't remember the shutters you put up)

The way your smile sounded

(before you stopped calling)

And the peace that radiated from your soul

(until your missing backbone became obvious)

But not this day.

(not yet)

day one

Make it.

Count.