Rather...
Contained within melodic references
your voice breezes through my heart.
I don't feel oppressed by you,
rather, I feel liberated by the thoughts you leave me with.
Rather than feeling found
I feel lost within the boundaries of your whispered phone messages.
The easy way my words run
like a leaf in your river
ties me to the wish that maybe I'm okay
I'm being broken down, maybe
walls I thought were stronger weren't so
strangely instant glued together and
the liquid you provide in laughter is melting the stone
like a river carves out a canyon
but faster.
I don't feel that familiar suffocation
rather, I feel as though the bag over my head obscuring my view
is paper, not plastic.
And even though I'm still somewhat blinded,
at least I'm not dying anymore
At least I think what you're providing is
an outlet for my dreams
that isn't like a candle, wavering under my steady rains
but rather like a night light
that continues to glow after the sun rises
until it is switched off.
Maybe what this is
is reality
An expression only imagined to me before
that means somthing sweeter than dreams.
I'm finally processing hurt, maybe
and I don't feel threatened by you.
At least, not caged animal threatened.
Rather, threatened like a bird nesting in a hunting marsh
I may be shot down, maybe.
But at least I'm free.
your voice breezes through my heart.
I don't feel oppressed by you,
rather, I feel liberated by the thoughts you leave me with.
Rather than feeling found
I feel lost within the boundaries of your whispered phone messages.
The easy way my words run
like a leaf in your river
ties me to the wish that maybe I'm okay
I'm being broken down, maybe
walls I thought were stronger weren't so
strangely instant glued together and
the liquid you provide in laughter is melting the stone
like a river carves out a canyon
but faster.
I don't feel that familiar suffocation
rather, I feel as though the bag over my head obscuring my view
is paper, not plastic.
And even though I'm still somewhat blinded,
at least I'm not dying anymore
At least I think what you're providing is
an outlet for my dreams
that isn't like a candle, wavering under my steady rains
but rather like a night light
that continues to glow after the sun rises
until it is switched off.
Maybe what this is
is reality
An expression only imagined to me before
that means somthing sweeter than dreams.
I'm finally processing hurt, maybe
and I don't feel threatened by you.
At least, not caged animal threatened.
Rather, threatened like a bird nesting in a hunting marsh
I may be shot down, maybe.
But at least I'm free.