you call me all the right words, but the right words sound so wrong

i want to say that his eyes (that i used to love so much) are sad, but the truth is that he’s happy, and so am i. we all move on in such unimagined ways and the magic of time is that it heals, temporarily, permanently, whatever. we move on, or we begin to forget… i haven’t yet decided which, but i’ve decided that it doesn’t matter. 

there are days when i’m fine and more than fine, when the ache is a remembered pain, when the words he whispers are secrets that i can’t quite hear, and i’m fucking alright: bursting with an intense, insane joy – the acme of happy. 

then, there are the days when i’m a quivering mess of memories. when the ache is a fucking tsunami and all i want to do is rip out my heart and bleach my brain clear of him. 

but the pain is mine, and the happiness is mine too. 
when i was younger, i used to think that i wanted to be a comet, blazing through the heavens in a trail of fire, illuminating the skies brightly, and temporarily blinding all who sees, but these days, i’ve arrived at the conclusion that i’ll rather be a star. twinkling quietly in the background, illuminating all who chooses to see, providing a backdrop to the perfect scenery. 

i used to say i was sad because i felt like i used to be a hurricane, but now i’m just a breeze. but hurricanes are destructive. they enter whirl-wind like into a life and they tear it asunder, quickly, leaving in their wake a mess of empty. 

i think… i’m content with being a breeze now. i’ll rather be mellow, than destructive. because i want to be remembered but only for the right things. 


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