It seems like there is always another empty room waiting for me. Been finding my conscience in the medicine cabinet and using it to sift through the cobwebs and time capsules in my head. I'm teaching my eyes to lie while saving my voice for the big ones.
When you really think about it, words are more than just games we play with the tips of tongues. Especially when they are written down and read aloud. You and I know that the best conversations are the ones where neither of us has to say a word. So let's practice our awkward glances that will say more than our mouths ever will. Besides, if you fall down enough you'll find that getting up is what really hurts.
I have an entire world of worry under this rehearsed image. There is so much history in the center of my chest. Turn the page. What you thought was goodbye is just a disguised "'see you soon." It never comes soon enough.
Scrapbooks won't last. Sooner or later the color will fade, drip, and become a mess of memories that once were. A puddle of forgotten flashes and dead chromophil. Expired smiles illustrated under dust.
Once the rewind button is broken, all you can do is let it play through. Writing off tomorrows every time my fingers touch these buttons. Putting all the comforts and closeness in reverse just for you.
I haven't felt much like staring at a computer screen lately, reading words put to paper years ago instead. It slows my heart down.
Exit.
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