Strange Things

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Hearts are strange things.

Sometimes they are just so heavy that you have to let go,

but when you do they fly light like a butterfly.

Sometimes they burn so hot that you can’t breathe

for fear that if you open your mouth, you will consume the world.

And sometimes hearts are cold,

like ice–if ice could eat warmth like a ravenous piranha.

The only thing you can do then is wait, in silence, praying for tomorrow.

Heart are strange things.

Sometimes you just have to rip them out to watch them bleed,

just to remember that you are still alive.

That you still matter.

But sometimes you meet someone you can trust.

You give them your heart and they give you theirs and you can breathe again.

Life seems to beat just a little faster,

hearts are strange things.

Sometimes, you have to give them away to really understand.

Forgotten Path, Familiar Road

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We have been here before, you and I.

I have promised to do better and be better but

here I am again, apologizing for leaving.

Apologizing for not being good enough or brave enough

or just too lazy to summon the strength to win.

You are my drunken nightcap and my blissful blackout,

I want to drown myself in you until I am not overeating anymore.

Until I am not see seesawing on the pendulum of I love myself

I hate myself. I love myself to much. I hate myself. I hate myself.

I hate myself for loving myself too much, too abusively.

But maybe I can remember how to forget again.

Maybe I can remember how to forgive again.

Maybe I can just breathe again.

Maybe. Just maybe.