I tried to force it,
push it,
but the world came
slowly.
The result of blind ambition.
Memories of an amnesiac.
Struggled across the threshold,
never were so quick to win,
fought for every syllable,
a war for every inch.
It was never complicated,
but fate ran against
every situation.
Make things interesting.
None of this
is easy.
It tears at me
in my weakest places.
Unravelling who I am
for your pleasure.
Then I forget
how I go
back together again.
I’m fumbling for words
that were familiar.
Struggling to place
a name to the face,
instead of just admitting
that I don’t care;
that I never cared.
No one should have to be
scared
of being who they are,
even if they’re an asshole.
Even if they speak the truth.
Even if they’re not
who you thought they were;
maybe they’re
the question to your answer.
It’s like I’m trying to describe
your own face to you
and you deny
the color of your eyes.
The words are hard enough
without all this spite.
If you could see yourself
without the filter of yourself,
open your eyes
and love yourself,
I wouldn’t need to kill myself
making you feel
alright.
Alright?
Good night.
I’m turning off the light.
As the sun comes up
to light another day,
I’m still seeking a way
to faithfully describe
how you look in my eyes.
Better luck next time.
HG – 2018
