Elucidating Questions

Is it boring, or was it simply not enough? It’s hard to say when memory doesn’t serve.

It’s hard to say

Tumbling and trying to get back up to get going and headstrong to start something when

When what.

Tried and asked and begged and wanted someone to come with come with me just come with me.

Sat on the side of the road crying for an hour.

I did.

When was Valentine’s?

I forget. A playlist that seemed like some fun, coincidences it happened, so coincidences.

And do you see the signs because every sign screams.

But no,

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After all of course time would be needed to process the unfortunate situation that is

Walls put up to protect the pieces that started falling apart.

Words never spoken, merely trying to save the breaking heart by writing the panic and it wasn’t good enough

And then too good. Like there’s no way to get it right.

And probably the stories that were told within that no one could find the right parts of me.

And every word was words held hanging,

And it’s too soon, when the word is said we go back no one else thrown nastily and terribly

Back to August.

When he was gone and god I miss you.

I miss you every day, like this hole that will never be filled.

It broke so terribly, pieces in the land of the sun.

There’s just words from all of them that are lies. Lies if applied to the wrong person,

It was not.

I wonder if he found one, a piece or a shard, perhaps that’s all that connects truly.

Those who have seen pieces of my broken heart.

I still don’t know why she asked for the password. I still don’t know what that password was.

The words weren’t honest either, of that memory that claims to have protected my home. At the time, and the home was supposed to go there,

And as said as the questions are asked and answered outloud, in an instant without thought but it’s not a sound.

That feeling of being not on top, but being shown and the first feeling of panic because

I was always slow and the worry of being found, despite being just this.

Somehow I’m feeling, I’m beginning to get,

That it wasn’t me, but it was the false reading of someone that could

Someone else that would, like him, that same feeling like

It couldn’t be allowed to happen again,

But it was wrong right?