Painting. (vent).
I state no names. I refuse to divulge them, too, so do not attempt to pry. I just,, am curious to the extent of why. Why art thou so verily infatuated? You speak on the top of hills about it, with glowing praise. It is like I am but a shadow, which I can accept, sincerely, but this shadow deserves an answer. Saying one thing, and doing another hurts. I constantly hear what you say, and how you say it. I am very sorry for what you have been through, but it is starting to make me uncomfortable. I hear it as much as summertime birds at dawn. I know how you sincerely care for them, but it is almost as if it were being rubbed in my face. I know I do not matter as much as them in your heart. It would hurt less if you stated it outloud. I just so greatly wish you understood your own value, too. So very much so, a wish I have. I have no right to intrude, either. You only have fleeting moments, don't waste them with me. Let me be a painting on the wall, a token of the past, if you wish it so. Bitter silence is a bid I do not want, but bid it so. Be sincere, please. I want nothing more than honesty. I do not want pity, nor sweet words unless they are truthful. I know I have no chance of getting to know you like you know them. I do not think it will ever be a possibility, either. I am just some random chickadee. I am just happy for you. For your love, and affection. I should not get it, not in the slightest when you are on borrowed time. I do not find myself valuable enough for it. Just, ever so sincerely, why have you chosen to show me compassion? This daft bird who has barely peeked from the nest, let alone flown. Why? I can never be what you seek. I myself am built on sinking foundations. Moods as ever changing as the breeze. I am but a lowly broken quill, spent. My ink is gone, I do not know how much longer I can do this. My heart cannot handle your words, at times, but I would rather hear them than be ignorant. I would rather know who you are, and what you are going through, emotionally or not, so I can give you what little word I have. I have fallen from my nest, and I cannot fly back.
- Published June 26, 2020, 17:14
- in Kiddie Pool
- in Vents and or Rants
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