I’m tired of being who I am, and I don’t know if these are late night thoughts that drip from the dark syrupy hours that bleed into grey toothpaste and coffee mornings.
I don’t know if these are the musings of a girl who has sought loneliness her whole life, and was surprised when it found her.
I don’t know if my mind is of a heart that, shuttered and dark, still lights aflame, and in that light, slowly burns itself down.
I am tired.
Tired of pretending that light filled buoyant days float on by
when really I stay anchored and mired by the weight of weeks to come and those that have already slipped under the bridge.
Days of summer romance that still surface in heated rose tinged dreams in fragments and scraps,
caught on the rough edges of a broken mind.
Hours spent beheld in an awe filled gaze that made me believe in my god again.
I am tired,
and I have so much farther to go.