His Words Splashed Me With Stars

Yesterday was alright

which leads me to believe I was either dreaming or dead.

But today was another day of despair.

The sun was out,

it kissed my skin and inflamed my bones.

I imagined he was there with me,

sitting with his guitar on his lap,

staring into the concrete and

strumming out a song he always kept silent.

(this is how I know I miss him)

Loving a thunderhawk has made my head pound

I’m so tired I can hardly make a sound.

I thought I was done with being sorry,

but it seems that I was wrong.

Your silence drenches me in sadness,

and your words are hollow.

(You never could show emotion when given a script)

but the stage lights are so bright, and I can’t remember my lines.

I think I was supposed to swallow a handful of pills

or maybe pull a trigger

or slit my throat

but I’ve slit a thousand throats with my words,

and broken a million hearts with my fists.

But in the end I’m the one bruised and breathless and beaten.

And I don’t know how to handle the fact that no one loves me.

And I hate those male-dependent girls you always read about in books,

the ones who can’t cope without him.

But it’s a tough role, being the hero.

Especially when you’re saving yourself.

And you’re not even sure you want to be saved anymore.