The truth is packaged in many forms, and sometimes our agreement realities differ. We toss out the metaphoric extensions of explanations because we’re being literal, we’re questioning. Sometimes life presents itself like a novel. A novel is not an answer, a novel is a question that doesn’t offer answers. Sometime we’re so deep rooted in our beliefs, that nothing can shake us. And other times we go running from our tired canvasses of reality only to walk Smack BANG back into the things we left behind. Sometimes … some people… leave it all behind. Your beliefs anchor you, even when you don’t have the words to explain it.
Sometimes we sell our souls to save our selves,
etching our deepest hurts with wounds that never heal.
Sometimes i see your jawline,
the rims of your spectacles
in dark theatres
as movies flicker
or lights catch the people on stage
I know its never you,
but my heart flutters in memory of you
i blink back the tears
don my own glasses
stare across the crowd of strange faces
to that of stranger
reminded me of you.
Your face so familiar
but that of a strangers
Wanting to believe in tomorrow,
but castles in the sky have a way of tumbling down
Finding fresh excuses for her fears
A year from midnight…
different voices saying the same words:
Happy birthday / I love you / You are so special to me / I miss you / I wish i was there.