(no subject)
I left a poem for you in your notebook of thoughts
and you want to illustrate it if I never do.
Bring new bodies into your bed
and wake them with my discarded hairs
just like we planned.
"Andrea, sit up" - I feel humiliated
knees brought up to my chest to hide away.
don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
Nothing is impossible,
we'll talk it out -
you'll talk me out of it.
I find it most difficult to recover from an embarrassing moment. My weaknesses out in the open leaves me feeling vulnerable. I'm not perfect and I would never claim to be, however I can't bear to watch myself fall. It burns on the inside of my eyelids, leaves a stain in my body. I remember it over and over. Why does it make me sad? "There's nothing to be sad about... do I make you sad?" No, no, no. Yes? Maybe, yes. Displacement? Disillusionment? Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. Mute.
Leave it on mute for a while.