Oh, You Skinny Love of Mine.

you know that one moment you have, may not be a lot, but a moment in time where you think to yourself: Why am I still trying?

that annoying question. you curse at yourself, inside that never ceasing brain of yours, for even conjuring that thought that flashed through for a second like lightning in a storm that doesn't have thunder. you hate it, because you know you want to try, you think, you believe that somehow, some way, the thing or whatever mission or quest you have created will work out into your favor; you will win.
i'm still fighting, but the battle has already been lost.

my triumphs are already over.
they're already done.
this little magic box, which holds my dreams, my loves, my secrets, and my accomplishments; is only a figment of some sort of drug that manifests inside my skull.
that little box, that treasure that i own;
you smashed it with the axe of your ignorance you call your home.

there's a girl with dark eyes, who's looking at the face of one she loves.
she doesn't recognize it.
the features are the same; the changing colored eyes, the roundness of the cheeks, the birthmark they're embarrassed of, the smile the freckled face girl has seen a number of times.

come on skinny love just last the year
pour a little salt, we were never here
my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

staring at this sink of blood and crushed veneer

you know what i've heard about masks?
they always end up unveiling the truth.
and you know what i've heard about truths?
most of them hurt.
especially when they were secreted away from you in the first place.

the more i think of you as a diamond,
the more you become a piece of coal.
dull, dark, and smudging everything around you; dirtying it up so it can never be again clean.

the dark eyed girl would go home, carrying her books on her back (among other things), and would scroll through countless photographs, smiles crossing at her favorite ones.
those figments of color all across the parchment,
they're unique just like a snowflake,
never will one be the same again.

i tell my love to wreck it all

cut out all the ropes and let me fall
my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
right in this moment this order's tall

the dark eyed girl blinks, at a loss.
turning in concentric circles an emerald, around a thin, hardly polished finger.
she doesn't wonder or worry at what is going on,
on why the world is spinning too fast for her to stand.
but how in the hell this happened, and how much she can withstand.

my eyelashes stick together.
my fingers fly around like hummingbirds, tapping everything, touching everything, hitting everything, because i cannot stop.
if i could stop, i would let you know.
if i could get over it, i would have told you.

i don't see the point when i hear one instead of two.
when the phone never rings,
and when it does, it isn't you.

i told you to be patient

and i told you to be kind
and i told you to be balanced
and i told you to be kind

but in the morning i'll be with you
but it'll be a different kind
i'll be holding all the tickets
and you'll be holding all the fines

right now, i'm holding all the fines.
i'm holding all the punishments, all the things that should be pushed to you.
but i clutch, like a precious item, i clutch them so tightly that they rip.
for you deserve these, but i cannot bear for them to fly.
i cannot see that they will stick.
you'll just brush them off, unlike all the other things that stay in your head.

you know, i miss not being able to see under the mask.
it's a harsh truth,
because the turtle hiding under the shell is ready to bite.
not ready to see, not ready to become a part of the world,
but is plotting to make it's appearance.
it's sad.
because i don't miss you.
i miss the mask you've left behind.

and i told you to be patient

and i told you to be fine
and i told you to be balanced

and i told you to be kind

and now all your love is wasted

then who the hell was i?

i'm breaking at the bridges

and at the end of all your lines

with love and light,
eve morgan