If the first thing you learned about me is that I am a certified lover girl, and the second was that I never learn when love goes wrong, I’d like third to be that I’m a dirty little liar and if I was a lawyer, I’d claim libel.
If there was a chance for complete and total reinvention, I’d implore the scientific method to break habits and clear infatuation.
If I was a scientist, my question would be, is there a way to keep it together - not us, but me?
I’d hypothesize and synthesize how to build all my future love inside glass houses, so they would shatter the first time broken. Not the second or third. There would be no 5th, 6th chances. Forget “it’s okay” and “I still love you anyways”.
I would experiment with things like self-protection, self-reflection
Self…self..
Self-something else.
Which wouldn’t work. Back to the drawing board.
I’d be forced to analyze why I’ve been saving myself like grace. Though speaking of saving, when it comes to us, I guess I mean face.
There’s only so much saving one can do before you have to pack up and move. Now I’m in a glass house of my own making, if I move too fast or scream too loud my roof will break and everything will shatter down.
And maybe that’s good because there’s so much to do with shards of sun in somber moods.
Which leads me to conclude...
That I’m not a scientist and I don’t know what I’m talking about. This post was co-authored by google because there’s not a chance that I would remember the scientific method off the top of my head. What am I, a nerd?
No. Just a girl who accidentally writes in rhymes to pass the time - which is annoying. It probably invalidates my anger; definitely devalues my feelings.
But once it appears, I feel too clever not to force it down throats like salacious secrets. This isn’t “Oh! The places you’ll go” but at least when I’m writing sad thoughts it kinda flows.
I’m not a scientist, so I can’t fix feeling. Instead, I give them meaning for mute audiences with eyes but no tongue, who read but can’t speak. So, now I don’t write, but scream. The readership is appreciated but for once I’d like to stay quiet. Just breathe in and finally relinquish trying. This is getting old and I’m getting tired
No riddles, no rhymes.
If there is a God, I hope he’s kind.
Like light to tired eyes, (oh no, i used ‘tired’ twice. Ignore that.)
Like light to tired eyes, I’ve been praying for resuscitation. That’s why I mention God. People get religious when they need things, right? I’ve been worse, but I mean, if he’s around. I hope he’s listening. Even if he is kinda quiet.
I can talk enough for the both of us - let’s exchange communion for healthy communication.
Speaking of, the final step is to communicate my results.
After all the experiments and methodology.
I guess the results are that I lied about lying,
I’m not even a lawyer, I can’t even claim libel.
So continue to call me lover, certifiably - because you know, I seem stuck.
I guess that’s what i’ll always be.
Enhance your reading experience with today’s Blog pairing menu:
Catchy Tune: River - Leon Bridges
Bit Watch: Babylon Berlin