Tuesday 17 July 2018

Not for me, for you.

I know you’re scared. I read between the lines.
You’re scared you’ve made a decision that you can’t reverse.
You’re scared you’ve given too much away,
You’re scared that you were fooled, hoodwinked, deceived.
I know because I’ve been there.
I’ve walked in those shoes,
Carried that cross,
Lived that life.

And it’s fucking terrifying.
And I just want the best for you,
Not necessarily what’s best for me.

I know you’re confused, I can see it in your words.
Confused how things changed so fast,
How it went from 100 down to 0,
Confused why you’re spoken to like that.
I know because I’ve heard those phrases,
Walked those halls,
Suffered that fate.

And I hate to see you like this.
And I wish you’d let it all out,
For you, and not for me.

But I want you to know,
That it’s not too late.
To go back to the soft days,
When your messages would shake slumber from my eyes,
And paint wide grins across my tired face,
And send us off into the day happy.
Not necessarily for me, but for us.

There is still some time.
To go back.

Turn around where possible.

My heart complicates the situation, It takes the fourth exit on the roundabout into the half finished construction site, As it wants to ...