She is cracking...
 

 Not noticably, not significantly, but in small ways, in moments and split seconds, in shifts.
The little bits of her which were hanging on by threads now fall off only to plunder into the depths of darkness where they cannot be found. It seems funny to her, a simple thing such as this and she cannot even feel it.
 

Only yesterday she was inspiration, only yesterday she was motivation. It was only yesterday that she had found herself, in the late mornings of the night, listening to golden hits of powerful women reminding young girls not to give up hope, not to be sucked into the mass media of the sexual world...  she seems to find her self in the moments in between reality and dreams. Juut seconds of realization before they twitter away beyond reach waiting for her to find them again...maybe she held on too tight, it took so long to discover who she was, it tooks so much to finally solve the puzzle, maybe she held on too tight, maybe she let herself slip through her own grasp.


There was no second guessing herself yesterday, there were no regrets, no fleeting hopes of time machines to erase the past.

It seems simple enough to break the promises she made to herself, it seemed unimportant then that she did. But its funny in a way, she thinks, to not be quite sure of what you were perfectly clear about only yesterday.
 

Some things are written in stone, she realizes, and no matter how hard she fights or how tightly she holds on, everything is slipping, sliding through her fingers like sand and over and over again until she is drowning in every pain and every second, and she can no longer breath through her memories,
her lungs burn and her head aches, and she doesnt understand how it got to this point, how one moment became another and she ended up right where she was before, 

cracking.

He stood in front of his mirror as he carved out a heart.
Above the middle of his chest, slightly to the left
The carving was deep almost like it was engraved
It turned red instantly, like it was real and not fake.
And a thought occurred to him, like bliss
If he had to prove to her he had a heart
Why not dig deep enough to show the one that did exist

He took his scalpel, and slowly he flaked off his skin
The pain in his heart was so great,
That he couldn't feel the pain on his skin, there wasn't even a twinge.

And when he looked down, it seemed it was much too late.
Sure he could see the diamond beating,
but within seconds its movement was fleeting

lovely red spreads everywhere
as he smiles at her memory;
whispers into the darkness
"this is what was broken, now you see..."

_________________

A heartbeat is not an indication of life, because a beating heart could still be dead

It is in love, where fools die
lost in memories of tomorrows possibilities
still feeding on the vinegar tears and chocolate kisses.
Denying the existence of yesterdays sorrows
Still hung up on those lavender lies,
hoping today will hold your very last cry.

The truth is there, sitting in the light
But you want to be surrounded by shadows and sighs
Hopeless dreams where your heart shatters again and again
Running moments through your head, threading them together trying fruitlessly to make a movie and you inked the words with an invisible pen

Tainted hope lies at your door as she knocks again. 

Wishful thinking and teenage dreams combine to make you want to scream.
But away from her you cannot go, you fool dipped in misguided hope.
Trampled and trodden & still you stand
Body bruised & still you offer your hand

& really, it is in love, where fools die.



___________________

Tomorrow will hold nothing for you, if you do not hold anything for it.