Disguising Mistakes With Goodbyes

It’s one of those nights.
Where I can’t form sentences, that mean anything but nothing.
Because I can’t think.
Because all of my thoughts are swollen with my own problems.
Things that I don’t want to write about.
Things that I’m too scared to write about.

Because truth is a delicate game.
And I don’t want to hurt anyone.
I never ever wanted to hurt anyone.
And even here, and now, my words get poisoned with my distractions.
I don’t want you to know anything, other than I’m sorry.
And if I had a choice, I would choose not to be here either.
We’d all be better off, wouldn’t we?

And as tempted as you are to say yes to that, I really wish you would say no.
I want that so badly. I want everything that the storybooks promised us.
I want each moment, and each lie, captured and framed.
I can’t leave here. Not yet.

I’m not awake yet.

And I can't understand why I don't understand why you say the things you do.
Maybe I don't want to understand. I want to be alive. Not forever, just for now.