you can bury me when my body breaks

by retrodiction

42/142

 
You wanted an explanation I could not give, and I keep wondering how something so easy could be so twisted by my inability to speak. I used to have a life where I could look you in the eye and never feel such ache— I think I’m too in love with pretending that we’re all in so much pain. The stars you can’t see in your far-too-bright night sky are way over here, mocking me. I see them now as they were a billion years ago, foolishly thinking how beautiful it is, that these dead, empty things still keep on shining.

 
These are things that I carry like they were born a part of my body; I would break every rib in my chest just to breathe without any of you again. All I can give you are these poorly worded metaphors, analogies and stupid, stupid hyperboles. I also want you to know that I’ve filled for you a profusion of apologies— like each second is another reason to be sorry— everyday, over and over, in my mind. Above all, I’m sorry that my stubborn mouth won’t speak. Maybe you can pretend to understand this.

I’m sorry, that it’s still all about you.
I’m sorry,
that I wrongly believed I was strong enough.
I’m sorry,
that my hands were not enough to stop the bleeding.
I’m sorry, that I might as well have been the one who pulled the trigger.
I’m sorry,
that you had me.

 
Hasn’t someone once spoken some horrible truth about how everywhere you go you take yourself with you? My skull’s too thick to understand that I shouldn’t persist with all this pointless running.

But didn’t someone also say that your body is only a vessel for your soul? I think I damaged both along the way. The ship and it’s cargo are only drifting.

Please make me believe we’ll find shore in one piece.

 

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