A question has to have an answer, correct?
But not all questions are answered and it seems like an orphaned child trying to find their real parent.
It’s challenging, exasperating, and tiresome;
Sometimes those questions aren’t practical.
That’s how it seems to the other person,
Promises filled up my heart like the pollination of flowers in warm April.
I trusted you with all my secrets, my thoughts, and with opening up to you;
A rose blooming slowly throughout the months is what I was.
Was I not enough for you?
Not all females are ready at your dispense and some will never be able to become ready.
It’s not the fact that you’re some kind of monster, bigot, or stereotype;
Sometimes it’s just the fact that the girl is the problem.
That’s just how it is,
Annoyance trickling up to your thoughts.
“She’s just too loud, too immature, and most likely insane” is what you thought.
Maybe I’m too much of a handful;
Although, it’s not a maybe, I just am that.
Now the fact remains that you’ve been flirting with someone else instead of your own other half.
Yet it’s fact that you’ve told your other half that you needed time to think to yourself;
Sometimes it’s the issue that maybe your thoughts are the problem.
Misunderstanding is one to blame as it seems;
Wanting to be in on the decisions, knowing how one feels is too much though.
Feelings drift in your head of how you accumulate your thoughts,
But it seems like these feelings have complete control of you.
I am standing beside this empty grave, no headstone at all.
It is the moment where I learn everyone I will ever come to know will someday die.
Besides, I’m not afraid of the dark, perhaps that’s part of the problem.
They say that they thought the problem was not being able to get out of bed;
I can’t, anxiety holds me hostage of the house inside of my head.
They ask where did this anxiety come from?
Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town that sadness felt obligated to invite to the party.
I am the party, only I’m at a party I don’t want to be at.
You see, night sweeps me in his arms and dips me into the living room with a small glow of the moon making it feel as if the moon is my company.
They tell me to count sheep,
But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake.
So, I go for walks, but my stuttering kneecaps clank like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists.
They ring in my ears like clumsy church bells;
These bells remind me that I am sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness that I cannot baptise myself in.
They’ve told me that I’m so good at making something out of nothing and some will ask me if I’m afraid of dying.
No, I’m afraid of living.
I am lonely and I think that I’ve learned that when you left me, it taught me how to turn puzzling into lonely and the lonely into busy.
So, when I say I’ve been super busy lately, I mean I’ve been falling asleep on my couch watching Archer;
To avoid confronting the empty side of my bed, but sadness and anxiety drag me back to my bed
Until my bones are forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city.
The hollow auditorium of my chest swoons with the echoes of a heartbeat;
But I’m just a careless tourist here.
I will never truly understand where I’ve been.
They still don’t understand, but can’t you see that
I’ll never be able to understand myself as well.
Aren’t you happy about that though?
For so long, you’ve known I’ve been questioning myself.
Mornings have been conflicting to my heart;
Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh.
Its colors swarming into the room of my home,
They swarm like the feelings rushing in my head;
As if they’re tides of the ocean crashing onto the beach, except these feelings have no where else to turn to.
Instead, feelings turn into tears as they tumble down my face, each one crashing onto the floor after the other.
Is it enough for you?