Elephants
one
You crawled inside my brain, moved things around and called it home. You let me spiral straight for the ground, with twisted ankles, and broken breathing. You tied an elephant to my chest, and watched me fall.
Sweetly you'd whisper, rehearsed in the mirror the night before, and the pretty words would work themselves in, laying like bandaids across my wounds.
But you can only pick up the fallen bricks and mortar them back together so many times before the bricks become dust... Nobody told me this though.
Nobody told me that the farther I fell the longer it'd take me to get out of the hole. Nobody mentioned that the sunlight eventually vanishes, and the vines creep around my body, then pull me in tight.
The escape signs are all painted over, and your pretty lies are haunting. I'm nothing without you. It's okay, it's okay.
Seeping, sinking, deeper.
Words echo off the walls of my skull, but they're distant. Inside of me, yet miles away. Screaming.
You're exactly who I thought I knew you weren't.
It wasn't supposed to be like that though. We were supposed to hold eachother up. But I fell. I crashed with an elephant's foot breaking through my ribs.
You'll never get out now.
Your hands once a comfort, now a fear. The tears well up and threaten to drown my vision. But it's okay because you'll apologize, like you always do. Might as well stitch those lips together, I'll get the sewing kit from the kitchen junk drawer. We'll catch those lies between the thread before they escape, and float through the air to my ears.
I guess I'll slip out the window while you're sleeping, I can make it to the road before my bones fall apart. Maybe someone there will see me, and put me back together. The stars are out, and the world is dead though. And these vocal cords are too tired to speak anyways.
But I can curl up on the smooth road, squirm around until there's enough oxygen flowing between the elephant and smashed up ribs to keep me going, flutter sleepy eyelids sticky with tear smudged makeup, and drift. Drift silently. Slowly. Away.
Sweetly you'd whisper, rehearsed in the mirror the night before, and the pretty words would work themselves in, laying like bandaids across my wounds.
But you can only pick up the fallen bricks and mortar them back together so many times before the bricks become dust... Nobody told me this though.
Nobody told me that the farther I fell the longer it'd take me to get out of the hole. Nobody mentioned that the sunlight eventually vanishes, and the vines creep around my body, then pull me in tight.
The escape signs are all painted over, and your pretty lies are haunting. I'm nothing without you. It's okay, it's okay.
Seeping, sinking, deeper.
Words echo off the walls of my skull, but they're distant. Inside of me, yet miles away. Screaming.
You're exactly who I thought I knew you weren't.
It wasn't supposed to be like that though. We were supposed to hold eachother up. But I fell. I crashed with an elephant's foot breaking through my ribs.
You'll never get out now.
Your hands once a comfort, now a fear. The tears well up and threaten to drown my vision. But it's okay because you'll apologize, like you always do. Might as well stitch those lips together, I'll get the sewing kit from the kitchen junk drawer. We'll catch those lies between the thread before they escape, and float through the air to my ears.
I guess I'll slip out the window while you're sleeping, I can make it to the road before my bones fall apart. Maybe someone there will see me, and put me back together. The stars are out, and the world is dead though. And these vocal cords are too tired to speak anyways.
But I can curl up on the smooth road, squirm around until there's enough oxygen flowing between the elephant and smashed up ribs to keep me going, flutter sleepy eyelids sticky with tear smudged makeup, and drift. Drift silently. Slowly. Away.
♠ ♠ ♠
Would love some feedback on this.