I seek to be brighter than the sun, hanging in the sky so effortlessly.
A glowing beacon of hope, with adoration all eyes will follow me.
When I leave and fade away for the night, the one after me will shine from the remnants of my light, battered and torn from being away from me.
I'll laugh with my rays and keep smiling away thinking no one can get close to me.
My unrequited IS brighter than the sun, hanging in the sky so effortlessly.
A glowing beacon of hope, with love and adoration my eyes always follow him.
When he sets for the night, I still glow from his remaining light, hurt and longing to be near him.
He laughs with his rays knowing that no one can get close to him.
Remember my dear, longing is older than love, just like night is longer than day, and I'll be bigger and brighter than you someday, baby
don't wait up for me.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Doctor Who, M.D.
I swore I'd never be one of those girls, but I'm not gonna lie.
It kind of hurt.
It wasn't a stabbing pain, more like a sharp twinge. Like your first bong hit. Or speeding through a yellow light when you should have come to a stop. Do you know that feeling? It was like my insides were being twisted in knots and pulled out through the middle of my D cups.
"This must be how it feels approaching a black hole," I said, sucking in a deep breath. Taking my bra off did nothing to release this tension. With every inhale my lids would close, and with every exhale, my eyes would sting.
Sad that a cursor did all of this. A blinking, black cursor. A nagging vertical line reminding you every second that you have nothing to say. Maybe because he has nothing to say to you.
It didn't start out this way. I had plenty of things to say. He had plenty of things to say. Hell, he had more things to say before I even knew he wanted to say them to me. Then somehow it led to a white box and invisible words. Staring at an empty screen 'til my eyes got fuzzy.
"Who told you love was fleeting/sometimes men can be so misleading/to take what they need from you," Tim Kasher sang.
I understand that I fall hard like an 82 year old without a walker, but... this time it felt right. Then again, it always feels right, but what Kasher sang is true- the facade is there until men gain what they sought. Then a violin is played, the curtain drops, the lights dim, and I'm alone on stage. Singing an aria to an absent crowd. Again.
It kind of hurt.
It wasn't a stabbing pain, more like a sharp twinge. Like your first bong hit. Or speeding through a yellow light when you should have come to a stop. Do you know that feeling? It was like my insides were being twisted in knots and pulled out through the middle of my D cups.
"This must be how it feels approaching a black hole," I said, sucking in a deep breath. Taking my bra off did nothing to release this tension. With every inhale my lids would close, and with every exhale, my eyes would sting.
Sad that a cursor did all of this. A blinking, black cursor. A nagging vertical line reminding you every second that you have nothing to say. Maybe because he has nothing to say to you.
It didn't start out this way. I had plenty of things to say. He had plenty of things to say. Hell, he had more things to say before I even knew he wanted to say them to me. Then somehow it led to a white box and invisible words. Staring at an empty screen 'til my eyes got fuzzy.
"Who told you love was fleeting/sometimes men can be so misleading/to take what they need from you," Tim Kasher sang.
I understand that I fall hard like an 82 year old without a walker, but... this time it felt right. Then again, it always feels right, but what Kasher sang is true- the facade is there until men gain what they sought. Then a violin is played, the curtain drops, the lights dim, and I'm alone on stage. Singing an aria to an absent crowd. Again.
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