whenyouwantlove

i used to write stories... i called them poems and let you believe that they weren't about me or maybe they were in my past or maybe i didn't write them at all and i left them with you the last time i quietly backed away from all responsibility. I'm still not sorry. but I'm resenting the fact that you're the only one holding our history. there were a lot of things i meant to say, but didn't think of until later. i sent you letters to reconcile this but i don't feel so reconciled. i want more than your taking another page of my life and filing it away in your safe with all your hopes and all your failures. there is so much more than just walls. so much. if i told you that then, i only wrote for your approval, that i passed every class to get into the ivy league you thought you wanted, that i gave up my autonomy to make room for your dreaming, that i didn't even like the color green, really, until you told me that you loved bright eyes too. i used to love so much. everything was a wonder. everything was a clashing of thought, dream, and color, and now you have all of that tucked safely away so neither of us have to blur the edges. what if i told you that nothing blurs for me anymore? i have seen things sharper and clearer than than the lake we danced on and the stars you refused to wish on. what if i told you i am tired of hiding the fact that i knew you fell deeper than you ever let on?



in and out of windows...