Quiet Confession

Thursday, July 14, 2011

I am...so glad that I'm over you.
Posted by ProverbialCage at Thursday, July 14, 2011
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      • In a lot of ways, I guess it never mattered to you...
      • I guess our friendship ended at the point where ev...
      • And for a moment, you were that sweet caring boy w...
      • It was a love song to our mutual hatred.
      • I could never be what you need.
      • He asked me what I sought after in a man. I replie...
      • I'm OVER it.
      • Variety, influence, fluidity, vibrance, turbulence...
      • I'm not good enough for myself, how can I ever be ...
      • Accepting failure is painful.
      • I keep telling myself that I should hate you, but ...
      • There's a part of me that still falls for you.
      • His words are like raindrops. Moist pellets that s...
      • To be skinny is to be beautiful. Repeat until fin...
      • Give me a fountain of cold, beatless breaths and h...
      • I'm fixing imperfections and correcting wrongs unt...
      • I don't know what I ever saw in you.
      • It must have been difficult for you too, then.
      • I want to be weightless.
      • I want to start a band, become ridiculously famous...
      • Why do people reason that “love makes you do crazy...
      • The worst thing you can do is allow someone to bec...
      • I am...so glad that I'm over you.
      • Big was only beautiful in songs and soliloquies. B...
      • Desperately trying to convince myself it’s not my ...
      • I don’t want anything permanent.
      • Sometimes, I'm so glad we were never together.
      • Here I go again, giving bits of my soul away, push...
      • I am an evil, evil woman. Don't be fooled by my sh...
      • I gave up asking permission because I alone know w...
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ProverbialCage
Thoughts pour from my brain in the form of letters and numbers laid out upon the pallet of paper and screens, remaining soundless and unspoken. Coffins house ideas that drift away from these stitched lips and I am garnished with a certain discontent for the muddled musings that fall away from me every day. I would speak if sound would reach you, but instead the quiet cuffs me and I am ill under the silence that binds me. I hide in these lines and only with writing will you see.
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