Look at me closely, say this isn’t what the paradise looks like. When you make me feel like a garden of your love, I feel like the storage of your lies. Every sip of those words, there are thorns stinging on my neck. Draining my empty rapture. Playing with my feelings. Like a little kid picking the best part of me, tearing apart the petals until my skin is no longer sealed from storms. Burning ices, the melting fire in your camouflage eyes. Someone says I am worthy of something better, but ripping down on my bones, I would show my scars and they would open and can easily bleed it again. I say I wouldn’t jump into the falls, either it can break or drown me, but I always do it anyway. I never care about colors that fading away. Hurt might make my life useful. Sometimes facing what hurts, lessons are dripping down my brain, being processed by my heart, absorbs by my soul. This is not a vacation place in your life. I’m not a paradise. Maybe I like a home that you can feel the comfort of tired silhouette, through darkness, brightness, confusion, I’ll make you feel your smile grows more than what you’ve thought of me as a garden. You made me cry as the sprinkler for my root that lost its breath. You tried so hard to make me a perfect image for people around us, but I don’t want perfection, maybe If you would be true to yourself. Don’t build my universe in your hands, pick me up and build up my feet through your care, if it’s real. Hurt me like I would find myself, just stop hurting me until I lost myself. I’ll never going to be your beautiful place, I’m worried to be messed up and never be good in your eyes anymore. Tell me someday someone’s going to be with me because I am the safest place, no matter how close or far I am.
jcatmoonlight (via wnq-writers)
