Sunday

there is nothing you see besides behind you.  there is nothing you see in front of you because you are still looking back.  in the end i am invisible.  my world was on layaway anyhow so who gives a fuck, right?  one word and transformed and i felt things shake, like a distant aftershock.  i was here, clean, pure, sweet.  but invisible.  it’s not my job to turn your head around.

there is nothing i want to see besides today and tomorrow.  i will always have this softness to me, the girl who saw things crushed in front of her eyes too many times to look back.  i am not handcuffed to that old life where they saw me as an accessory, an option.

so what are you going to do?  keep looking back, keep going down the same path, feeling sorry for yourself, voluntarily drowning?  or are you going to stand up.  take a risk.  let yourself truly feel.  reach out for my hand.

as for me?  i’m this set of curves and thoughts and emotions and laughter.  i am never going to deceive you.  i am sanctuary.  maybe that’s scary.  but how scary would it be to go down the same road, not knowing anyone, not investing any heart, not allowing in anything past the surface. 

so you have this opportunity.

are you going to extend your hand?  reach out and grab mine, squeeze it and talk me through this.  there are no life changing decisions to be made.  just comfort.  just a bit of strength for someone who is weary.  just a soft place to fall.  

or are you going to hide away?  blame it on the last one?  write it away in metaphors and say it was never anything to begin with.  you don’t know me.  but you do.  you have seen more of me than most, because we are tied together in a different way.  our connection is comforting, soft, easy.  i’ve let you see things.  with you, i am vulnerable.  i am clean, pure, sweet.

and i am terrified.  because one day i fell asleep and words turned into something entirely unexpected.  and someone was in my yard.  and i reached for you.  and you were gone.  and i have nothing i can ask for.  but i wanted your comfort anyhow.

so here i lie.  wrapped in an old quilt, listening to the rain.  homesick for my sunday morning.  a sappy girl with a soft heart and wondering if i have no reason to ask for anything. or do i.  if my heart was not such a question mark i wouldn’t ask you for the answer.

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