Why do you tell me things that have no truth behind them, only spiderwebs and fluorescent lightbulbs burning my retinas?
and how do you expect me to trust you again, to let you near me and touch the bare skin on the small of my back?
i know that sometimes my understanding of reality is skewed. I grew up next to Anne of Green Gables and Sara Crewe, believing the best in everyone and all things turn out all right in the end and families are happy and sadness is overcome through sun and love and hugs. some childish thoughts must be realized as adolescence is left behind, but the vastness of the open night sky could either be a large emptiness of terrifying unknown or a sparkling place of wonder and i chose the latter. you might dwell on the unhappy pieces that you can't seem to work through, and you chose not to tell me exactly where that takes place. Now my eyes are opened, but more with dewdrops of sadness because you thought to shield me from this part of you.
do you think I won't accept you, all of you?
Can it hurt to try?
instead, you covered it, hiding behind planks with flowers painted fading orange ochre sage on a yellow background. did you think i would never find it, never notice?
and where to move from here?
what should I do now?