Conscious

You’ve made mistakes
Many, you know this.
Lived close enough to the edge to
feel the thrill of it but just far enough to
not fall off, you’re strategic.
But the paint on the walls you’ve been building up is
starting to chip and sometimes you forget to laugh at
things you’re supposed to
You don’t listen with detail often and
when you do, you forget to care.
Apathy is not pretty on you but
neither is desperation.
You remember when you wanted to
save yourself for the right one and
now it’s funny to think about how
your list is too long to keep track and
you can no longer count your reckless on your fingers
There’s a boy who brings you sunflowers and
before you can tell him he’s too good for you,
you hurt him,
unintentionally.
You could say sorry but there’s no correct apology for
I can’t love you.
There’s no believable way to say
I don’t deserve you or
don’t know how to or
Convince a hopeless romantic that
you’re really just pathetic.

You’re drifting off the road in your dreams but
The car is still intact the next morning
During the day you think about all of the sleep you didn’t get
You couldn’t get, you’re not sure when rest became
a chore instead of a reward.
Your lonely has turned into habit and
the smell of gasoline is more appealing than perfume
Sometimes you don’t appreciate things you should and
that’s just normal routine.
But you’re tired most days and it has become
a purposeful cycle of
Consciously messing up to fix it later,
the trouble keeps you busy,
The ache is constant but
it keeps you full.
You used to collect records that
now collect dust sitting in a room
in a house that no one really lives in,
Someone does, yes, but only quietly.
There is a doe-eyed girl who has
drowned in your search for passion,
You’re guilty for crimes you didn’t mean to
commit, mostly careless in intention and
you never meant to hurt anyone but yourself.
Your arms are wide but you’re shaking and
there are so many questions that
you’ll never have answered.

What happens when your fingers break
from reaching out too much?
What do you do when you’ve run out of
bones to crack?
Will your spine still stretch after you’ve bent backwards
so many times?
How can you possibly love someone
when you don’t know how to yourself?
You’re learning, you swear.
Trying to understand that appreciation
doesn’t directly translate to narcissm, that
You don’t always have to feel bad for
what isn’t your fault.
You’ve made mistakes,
many, you know this.
Move farther away from the cliff,
don’t hold your breath, this is life,
my dear,
you know this.
You’ll be okay,
You know this.

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