It will pound and shake and chip at any strength you've reserved or any stance you've taken. The Voice knows your weaknesses for it was there when they were formed; it steals your courage for it knows the heart that worked for it. If you should let it, the Voice will trample any spark before it has left your tongue. It will douse the blazing fires of you with buckets of doubt and antagonism. That Voice impressing itself in your skull will forever be your greatest enemy.

There is something lovely about the rain. It can be a powerful pummeling, pouring in a thick torrent, or it can be the soft sprinkling of a hundred tears from lovers weeping over broken hearts. Sometimes it’s a soft sound that lulls children to sleep, but it can also roar and crack. It’s for dancers and dreamers. It’s for laziness and liveliness. There is something wonderous about the rain.

There’s a hole where you used to be

A gaping, haunting thing

But I guess you’ve already patched your hole up

She’s beautiful and lovely

I guess I didn’t realize

There’s an over in forever

#romance #breakup

I have a wall inside me. You do, too.

It’s made of bricks of mistrust held together with the mortar of fake smiles and dodging questions.

We all have something inside to protect, to hide. Whether it is pain or a secret or a dream or a stained memory, there is something hidden behind that wall. It goes up in the stiffness of shoulders and the clenching of the jaw. It keeps safe the part of us the world cannot see.

Because there is always the driving fear that if we let our wall down, our last defense, we will be rejected. The danger of closeness and trust is ever present. The wall keeps us safe.

Until we find the person our wall comes tumbling down for.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he said. I can remember the way he rolled his dark eyes, the way he clipped the last syllable with his tongue.

I drew my knees to my chest, taking a deep breath of the cool air. The waves lapped lazily against the shore, never pushing past their bounds. “I’m serious,” I told him, looking forward to the horizon, “Let’s get away. Let’s go somewhere. Do something crazy.”

He shook his head. “And where would we go?”

“I don’t know, Sam. But that’s the whole point!” I said, throwing my hands in the air dramatically.

“Our lives our here.”

“Who says they can’t be out there?” I challenged, gesturing to the open sea.

Sam looked at me, quirking a brow like he does when he tries to do mental math. “You’re insane sometimes. We can’t just leave.”

“Who says?”

“Logic.”

“You’ve never listened to it before.”

He rolled his eyes again, leaning back in the sand. “Our lives are here. What makes you want to leave so badly?”

A stronger wave came to shore, spilling over the dry sand. I sighed. “Maybe because there’s too much of a world out there to want my death to be here, too.”