growing wings | Completed

33. nothing but the truth

       like a fool in love, i smile at her knowing all the galaxies are reflected upon my eyes,

        knowing my heartbeat was like a prey caught in fear, beating rapidly,

         and holding a gaze better than a cheating lover committing infidelity. 

        perhaps i know what draws me to her,

         knowing she's too good for me, and that this world is oh so cruel,

          and that i want something  - no - i crave something that would shine just a little bit of light in my life.

       justifying my greed and want is such a pathetic thing to do,

        but what can i say, except that it is nothing but the truth.

         she sat across me and with a lighters spark in my eye, i hold her hand across the table,

         rubbing the back of her hand, drawing infinite circles, never-ending.

         just like her kindness, radiant and blooming like sunflowers in a field of green.

         i sometimes think that if this were a story, she'd be the protagonist,

        and i, the plot twist, 

(as i am the hidden antagonist all along.)

        and i fall in love with the hero in every little way,

         yet the story is not mine, and the bad guy does not end up with the beloved.

        with the truth held in close, worn out wrinkled, quivering hands, i gaze at this miracle before me.

         "ezra, i missed you so much," and like the breath of the wild, i simply smile,  

         because i fear my mouth will tumble words that are too soon to be said,

          and that sometimes being patient and kind is better than the truth.

          "i know,"

          "how have you been?" head tilted like the innocence in a white rose,

           i am her thorns. pricking blood from fingers of the unknown.

         blue seems to drip like paint onto my face, staining it with its absurdity,

         simple conversation fills an empty hole in my bruised heart,

         and i believe all is good in the world, even for a little while.

        i wonder when i'll tell her.

        but her life does not revolve around me, i am a simple obstacle for her.

        and her; my very essence.

        this is nothing but the truth.

        my mind gnaws at me for strands of hope,

        to revert back to somewhat normalcy, 

        but that is preposterous to think of.

       i believe i've gone mad.

        mad with my thoughts, 

         the strain of living this trivial life, to exist and to leave a mark, and then 

       dispose of your existence, for you to be forgotten in many years.

        what good does it do to exist?

         i know fields of yellow, and sunsets are worth existing for,

        i know bee colored eyes and gazes of warm mellow are worth,

        i know fingers curling with a lovers hand, spreading fire through your chest is worth it,

        i know holding your child, all that you have fought for in a small body is worth it,

       yet, when you think of it,

        it seems fruitless.

        perhaps i am too insensitive, yet i do know that the paragon before me is worth staying her,

       at least, for now. 

-  nothing but the truth