This is where I ask a boy why he would let me think we could love each other.
This is where I wonder what reality is, because someone has deconstructed it. And everything. With single words, with "I can't talk about this now."
This is the moment when I wonder why any of us are where we are, because why are we why, because when are we when, because what are we?
What!?
This is nothing.
This is where I stop letting myself love.
This is where you break my heart...
where my heart breaks all which loves it.
This is something and nothing and everyone who knows what I have not yet been allowed to understand.
This is conspiracy.
This is dogma.
This is life.
This is.
I don't know what is tonight. The things I believed are no longer believable.
This is a man sleeping on a mattress. This is a girl waking in the night.
This is a boy not knowing what love is.
This is a girl who is not the boy's own to love.
This is how a girl hates him for no promise he made.
This is nothing.
This is everything.
Relationship. Words exchange.
This is no poem; this is no cry.
This is what falls out of my mouth as I think about carelessness and novels and song lyrics, the mix CDs made for me, and the city streets I cannot face, for love has paved them, and I do not seal its tar.
I am forbidden from the paths the men have laid. I am restricted from the asphalt under my feet.
This is nothing.
So on I'll drift to nothing else.
