Her hair stands in the middle of the perfect frame...
Maybe this is the perfect frame...
Far from the childish dreams,
I find myself in retrospective of time and choices.
Longing to belong...
At this point anywhere is almost enough,
But settling for something other than what once wished...
Is failure altogether.
Assuming failure is something else entirely...
But maybe that's the dimmest of the glow in some people's eyes...
You can see them anywhere.
And I struggle not to loose the spark...
To the bottle, the weed, to despair, to insanity.
The softness of her touch,
Made me believe I belonged,
Even if I realized that sometimes I didn't...
I would rather believe in the lie again just to belong.
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