Little Dreamer's Eyes
Darlin' dreamin in the night, shadows on the windows
5.17.2005
Pieces
It's early.
Quiet.
The birds outside with no cars passing by to distract my thoughts. The sun hasn't risen to distract my vision. The day hasn't begun, yet I am here. I feel like I have something to say. Something to tell you. Something to tell myself.
But the words are not with me.
They are not organized in any fashion to help me describe how I feel or what I think. I scramble to put them in an order that will make my thoughts feel useful yet they are sitting strewn about my mind.
The way you left them.
I can't concentrate. I can't focus. I feel as though I'm making attempts to interpret another language. One you are speaking. One I don't understand.
And I stare.
For lack of a constructive option, I stare and wait as if it will change on it's own, but I know it will not. I need to pick up the pieces and try to put them together, with or without your help. With or without your answers. It may take longer on my own, but it will be more satisfying that you left me to figure it out by myself because once I have everything in place it will be a place that you did not invade to get me there.
Despite the fact that you intruded on my thoughts to make that mess. Despite the fact that I tried to reach for the pieces before they landed scattered and out of sorts. I will be busy today.
Picking them up.
Putting them in place. Making a pattern that perhaps you'll no longer understand if you attempt to come back to check on your damage. A pattern only I understand.
Because only I need to.
Quiet.
The birds outside with no cars passing by to distract my thoughts. The sun hasn't risen to distract my vision. The day hasn't begun, yet I am here. I feel like I have something to say. Something to tell you. Something to tell myself.
But the words are not with me.
They are not organized in any fashion to help me describe how I feel or what I think. I scramble to put them in an order that will make my thoughts feel useful yet they are sitting strewn about my mind.
The way you left them.
I can't concentrate. I can't focus. I feel as though I'm making attempts to interpret another language. One you are speaking. One I don't understand.
And I stare.
For lack of a constructive option, I stare and wait as if it will change on it's own, but I know it will not. I need to pick up the pieces and try to put them together, with or without your help. With or without your answers. It may take longer on my own, but it will be more satisfying that you left me to figure it out by myself because once I have everything in place it will be a place that you did not invade to get me there.
Despite the fact that you intruded on my thoughts to make that mess. Despite the fact that I tried to reach for the pieces before they landed scattered and out of sorts. I will be busy today.
Picking them up.
Putting them in place. Making a pattern that perhaps you'll no longer understand if you attempt to come back to check on your damage. A pattern only I understand.
Because only I need to.