lights on their faces glow as their smiles wane; distance creeps up. don’t you know the difference between the love-word in your mother tongue and a casual iloveyousomuch? their hearts collect dust with every ticking second, i watch and i write and i watch again. come sit with me and see how it’s not a lie that love is beauty: breathing in and out, she wonders, would he understand? would he know what it meant to grow up like she did, would he see what it took? would he clutch her after the walls break down and she can’t see her soul, would he look for her shadowselves and hold her, pure and whole? would he love her (the substantial question) if he knew who she was? he stares at the keyboard, blank. he hates to think yet there he is. (the beat drops and the hero walks away from the explosion unscathed) he looks at himself marked by everything that has ever gone wrong. how much should he hide from her? would she understand if he doesn’t become, what he’d wanted to be? would she see how he holds his scattered self together, for her? would she soothe his pain, when he is surrounded by his plethora of well-wishers, feeling alone again? would she love him (the substantial question) if she knew who he wasn’t? sit with me as i watch and write with their faces alight. i’ll give you these words to remember me by.
