Friday, August 14, 2009


It's so easy to pretend I'm not home when someone is knocking at my door.
I never let anyone in.
I've lost myself under a thousand layers of sarcasm and wit and indifference.
I've lost myself in that tiny little hole.
But I can't help but see the walls are caving in.
And then there was you.
You opened the door.
Just.
This.
Once.
And for a moment, you found me.
But you ran away.

When the storm comes, I'll laugh and I'll cry and I'll run through the streets until my lungs explode.
I'll run.
Alone.
The wind is all I have.
I will follow the colors you've so carefully painted around your little head of fire.
I will follow you into the night.
Only when the hue becomes so brilliant my eyes won't shut.
Only when the trembling in my fingertips drives me mad.
I'll know I've found you.

To me, you are perfectly imperfect.
You are strange and beautiful.
But I only can see you when my eyes are closed.
So please don't wake me.
Please just let me sleep in.
Just.
This.
Once.

Maybe one day you will understand.
Maybe one day you will find me again.
I wish you would.

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