We try our best to dream, twisting our necks around towards the sound of clapping hands, sparks flying from their lagging souls. Sparking laughter and admiration, blurry faces in the crowd, they blur out the sound of the ending that blends into the opening. Act on your wishes and don’t let them be drowned out by the beat of another’s heart, screaming at your eyes for wandering much too far. There’s no denying who you are. They can’t deny you from afar.
We explore new territory even when they blot out our eyes, feel our way through because they can’t blot out our mind, blot out our drive. Touch the surface of the desk, the cup that holds our fantasies, the soft blankets of our safe nest, the one they can’t take away from us. We smile because who else could tell us what to feel now? I mean, we’re not tied down.
So then let the story begin and don’t fear when it ends
because the end is the beginning of the beginning to a new end.
His persona rests on the mindset of couldn’t-care-less; he’ll take your happiness and say that it’s his, leave you a mess. It’s not like he doesn’t acknowledge what he did, but he believes that it’s fine to steal hearts, so immoral he is, saying it’s “mine” yet he didn’t fork over a dime of emotion because according to him, he doesn’t owe anyone anything, whether it be a dime or an apology.
His own heart is as bland and gray as his way of life, cobwebs crawling up the hollowed insides that hold nothing but empty feelings and withered promises, forgotten friendships and meaningless poetry. Formed beautifully, but thoughtlessly, insensitively. If you thought he was earnest, you were fooled by his simple trickery.
Sorry, but honestly, if it’s him you’re afraid of losing, you’ve got nothing to lose.