Guidance
My eyes are guidance to the future …they are my windows of opportunities, straight jackets of regrets. They’re stories of the roads with problems diverge from yesterday to later. They’re filled with cynicism and fakeness. And now stop signs aren’t my obstacle anymore. Today they are the octagon matchmakers of hectic and tranquil. Red drum beats to my slow motion and desire of my need to be invisible.
At night when my head hits the pillow with the yearning for tomorrow…for my feet to hit the solid ground and borrow just another second of your time
I long to loose reality… hunger to find knowledge in every rhyme long to find truth in every line.
I want to feast my imagination on flat pieces of vibrant paper with dice and made up rules that you and I change as we play…and you remind me that when games aren’t meant for winning mistakes don’t happen and I can be the me we always pretend I am anyway…just toss in a facade. Toss in escaping the truth, throw in the weapon of choice to replace the sharpness of my tongue…and taste the trepidation of my confidence.
And when I tell you that you will never win…please understand that I don’t want to be that girl anymore.
Don’t want to serve my heart on a silver platter when you’re craving beautiful smiles of thoughtless imitation. 34" 24"-34" is YOUR mind’s creation of …”perfection”. Don’t want to be the replaceable girl, the…I can have her back anytime crazy girl…the girl that misses her flight just to come get you that night.
I’m done being your savior…I wasn’t put into your life with tied back arms and clocks around my neck and I don’t know what time it is because respect is not about those little black hands that make days seem like years…and the count is up to three.
Three autumns, three winters, two summers and one wish for the freedom of your heart beat.
It may be hard to grasp but I’ve been gasping for air ever since I saw the toxins of nj skies at exit 13 in your eyes.
This time life isn’t just a pause button away.
Please understand I will not be your savior….All I can be is your woman. Trade in my weapons for a teaspoon of honey. Love like it’s a full time career. Fuel your fire with every breath I inhale and hope that your mind rewinds your clock and brings you back to my stop…signing your name on the dotted line of forever.
And in this competition
you can be anything you want. Even a heartbreaker murdering my heart into a paper airplane. But Pretending only gets us to a place where we can be somebody else with remnants of the past screaming BE YOUR SELF.
And me…I’m done being your savior. I’m a few stop signs ahead…