I want to heal from all the bitten lips and skin I ripped when my heart felt heavy and sunken.
I want to grow again,
so I appear more graceful or something like that,
but I suppose false advertisement isn't beautiful,
just a poor decision.
Except,
what really matters when the universe feels like it's stretching miles,
and you can't reach a single gleaming recollection of the night we danced on planets made of sand dunes
that were colored the same red eyed soul I watch reflect itself onto me.
I've been forced to relive the same agony,
to walk down the same shallow street that leads no where except hazy memories.
I am broken,
and I don't want to appear hopeless,
but false advertisement isn't beautiful,
just a poor decision.
